


Yes to Heaven

by Tenderisthenight



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Concubinage, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Set in the Past, Slavery, also it may be a bit awkward i havent written in a long time, i will add up relationships and edit em as we progress through the chapters, uh purely fictional though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-10-22 15:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10699620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenderisthenight/pseuds/Tenderisthenight
Summary: As if once upon a dream, Choi Junhong is presented with the chance to live the heaven he has so desired when his whole life had collapsed at a young age.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Although I have done my research and studied about the matters that will be presented throughout this story, do not expect everything to be accurate as things are adapted to fit the plot. This story is based hugely on past Asian cultures and most of them started from my own limited knowledge on subject matter. Please take note again, everything is purely fictional.

The darkness fills with light easily, Junhong thinks

And it hurts his eyes.

When the door opens, and he almost closed his eyes from the sheer brightness of the winter day he has never had the chance to witness that year, he can see two silhouettes standing by at the door.

There are murmurs from the others all around Junhong.

Another one to be taken out. Another one to be taken away.

Another one sold.

“This is what we have for now.” Junhong hears the keeper says as he shields his own eyes from the light.

He closes in on himself, pressing his back against the wall and curling his toes in, anything to be smaller and to not stand out in any way although he probably won’t stand out with how he is. He looks down, at the dirt on the ground and keeps his gaze low.

 _It’s bad manners to look up when there are customers_ , the keeper said one time.

“Do you have any criterias… or?” The keeper goes on, and the two silhouettes walk into the room, looking at the people sitting on the ground.

Everyone’s huddled with each other in blankets that aren’t enough for everyone. And Junhong’s the unfortunate kid who has to sit with no blanket because apparently he’s still young and can stand the cold.

“Um, let’s see,” A rather hoarse voice speaks up, and Junhong listens to the footsteps walking around and the keeper following the two strangers from behind, eager and acting all friendly. “First off, what was it?”

Only the people in the room know how the keeper really is.

Junhong hears the two whispering something.

“Young.”

The older guys around Junhong sighs a relief, and Junhong tensed. Whenever the customers come to look for young slaves it was never good news for the slaves.

“Young and strong enough to work, I would say?” The keeper laughs a little. “We have young lads over here, they’re strong, worked in many fields ever since they were little.”

Junhong holds his breath in the darkness, if that is what they’re looking for then Junhong isn’t it. There’s only one thing that keeps Junhong there in that room, and it’s also the only thing that makes the keeper especially hate him.

“No, not quite.” The hoarse voice replies.

Junhong wraps his arms tighter around himself.

It’s unusual for the customers to come in personally and choose, usually it’s the keeper choosing the ones he thinks fit the customers’ desire. Junhong knows the customers rarely come in because of the horrible circumstance and not to mention the stench. Junhong has lived with it all he barely notices how horrid it is anymore. It is his life, forever, after all.

The two customers are nearing him, and Junhong stares at the hems of lavish robes the two are wearing. Those are no ordinary robes. They must be from a very high family or some sort. Even the shoes are different than most customers would wear. Junhong cannot seem to pinpoint who they could be, even the richest families don’t have that kind of attire the two customers are wearing.

“If you’re looking for house slaves, then I can bring you to another room.”

One of the customer hums, the keeper’s already back at the door, showing the way out.

Junhong doesn’t want to think about the girls and women in the other room.

“I guess, we can do that.” The hoarse voice answers, and the man walks to the door.

The other one stays. Junhong stares at his shoes. And watches it turns to his direction.

“Himchan-hyung.”

The hoarse voiced one turns back. Himchan. That’s quite a name Junhong thinks.

“Yes, Jongup?”

“Take a look.”

Himchan walks back into the darkness. He stands beside Jongup, and now there is two pair of shoes pointing at Junhong.

Junhong’s heart raced, not knowing what to do. He doesn’t dare look up because if he does it’s usually bad consequence, but he doesn’t know if the two are looking at him.

“Lift your head up.” Himchan says and Junhong turns cold starting from his fingertips.

“Um, excuse me, general, I don’t think that one would be useful. I haven’t been able to sell him for so long, I’ve been considering to—”

“I said, lift your head up.” Himchan’s voice is firmer, and the keeper goes silent.

Junhong hears the keeper sighing, can even feel the beating that could come from this mere event.

Himchan squats down, and Junhong almost flinches. They are talking to him. What would Himchan and Jongup want with a slave like him?

He’d been a house slave before. And it isn’t ever just a house slave, he knows. It’s so much more and it’s scary. He doesn’t think he can go on if he’s sold right there and then.

“Your head’s heavy, isn’t it? Young one?” Himchan smiles, and reaches out a clean, fair hand from the sleeve of his lavish robe.

Junhong feels his cold fingertips under his chin, gently lifting his face so they can look at each other.

His eyes fill with tears immediately. He doesn’t know if it’s better out there or if it’s worse. He’s been through so much to even expect a good outcome.

But in Himchan’s smile that he sees, his heart skips a beat, and with Jongup’s calm face he thinks the winter is going to be different.

Himchan, with his sharp eyes yet soft features, turns to look at his companion. His eyes speak of nothing threatening, but can only exude warmth.

“Why, quite suitable, don’t you think, Jongup?”

“General, I don’t think you—”

Himchan turns and look at the keeper. Junhong can only listen to his heart pounding.

“We’ll take him.”

 

 

 

Junhong’s being taken into a carriage. He’s never seen the light of day for so long he can barely keep his eyes open, as he has stared at the sky with his hands bound, almost tripping over the rock on the ground and earning a mysterious smile from Himchan who’s handing the keeper a bag of gold.

“This is more than I expected!” The keeper beams.

 Junhong looks at his face one last time.

“This is how much we want to pay you for your service.”

When the keeper catches his eyes, the keeper doesn’t spare him anything more and walks away after thanking Himchan profusely and Himchan joins Jongup in their carriage as Junhong is entering the small one right behind theirs.

Junhong’s barefooted in the empty and small carriage. His dirty feet have brought in dirt into the otherwise clean carriage. He feels the dirt under his long nails, the dirt in his hair. His white hair isn’t white anymore. He doesn’t know how he looks like but he must look utterly disgusting. He can even feel the dried, cracked mud on his face. His clothes are torn and discoloured, and he reeks. Now that he’s in a better environment he realizes how filthy he is. Being surrounded by other slaves like him it hadn’t really occurred to him how long he hadn’t been able to clean himself.

There’s a small window that only allowed a small amount of light in. The carriage trembles and shakes along the road, and Junhong finds himself dreading his future along the way. He tries to think good of the two who had just bought him; he was taken into such a nice carriage after all. But it doesn’t change the fact that the two must want something from him to have bought him with so many gold. He knows he isn’t worth much, having a lot of customers come and go and not sparing him a glance.

After a long time, the carriage finally comes to a halt and Junhong hears the horses grunting.

“At long last, the search is over!” He hears Himchan exclaim, and Jongup laughs a little.

And that’s when his carriage is opened, and Junhong stares dumbfoundedly as Himchan and Jongup look at him from outside.

The two look at him with what Junhong can only term as expectation. What for he cannot even guess. But it sends tremors to his heart, he’s not sure what to anticipate of the two’s characters. He settled to be cautious.

“Come out now, we have a lot to discuss.” Himchan says. He’s smiling Junhong doesn’t know what to make of it.

Carefully, Junhong lets himself out, wary of the eyes on him. His hands shake when he steps out of the carriage, his feet coming in contact with the bare ground. The bind around his hands are tight, the keeper has made it so when Himchan decided he wanted to purchase Junhong.

Himchan looks at him, from head to toe with a faint smile on his lips. In the bright light of the sun his robe and Jongup’s look even more lavish, Junhong can’t seem to guess what he’s walking into.

“Pretty tall,” Himchan mutters. “I didn’t notice that.”

“But it’s not a problem.” Jongup says. “I don’t think his height would affect much if I may be honest.”

Himchan glances at Jongup and scoffs. There seems to be a shared sentiment between the two that isn’t shared with words and Junhong lowers his head silently.

“Come now.” Himchan beckons as he and Jongup walks.

Junhong peeks at the house they’re heading to. It isn’t a house. His mouth falls open a little before he realizes it and closes it tightly. It’s a mansion, and there are maids by the entrance already waiting for their arrival.

One particularly older maid walks ahead the others and greets Himchan.

“Welcome back. I heard the search is over.” The maid bows a little. “We have prepared for your arrival, dinner is being prepared, I hope seafood is fine for you. The fishermen have quite a catch today.”

“Yes, thank you. I look forward to dinner, Hyosung.” Himchan answers as they walk up the stairs, Junhong following slowly from behind as he struggles to walk.

Junhong almost stumbles when Himchan turns around to look at him.

“A little slow, aren’t you?” Himchan’s not even asking, but he’s still smiling, which renders Junhong helpless in trying to decipher whatever he means by his words.

Junhong looks down, frightened and hastened his steps to catch up.

“Bring him to the hearth room, I will see him there.” Himchan says to Hyosung and she nods.

Himchan waves his sleeve once and the maids come to Junhong. Junhong doesn’t know what to do with them approaching him, but Hyosung come forward with a pair of scissor that she produces from the inside of her sleeve and cuts off the rope that bound his hands.

She smiles at him. “Follow me.”

 

 

 

Junhong’s left in the hearth room with no words. He was told to sit by the hearth and to stay there.

The room’s dimly lit with the small fire in the hearth, Junhong’s leaning into the warmth it provides. His clothes are thin and offer not much warmth in the cold season, and he thinks it’s the first time since forever that he can sit down in such a warm place.

The door slides open, and it’s Himchan walking in with his head held high, he’s a confident man, Junhong finds, and he has also changed into a more comfortable attire. Jongup follows from behind, in a different attire too.

They sit in front of him, and Himchan rearranges the coals in the fire for a few second before he fully turns to Junhong. Jongup’s sitting at a small table on the floor, and opens a small book that he has brought with him and goes to a blank page.

“You don’t have to lower your gaze, I want to see you.” Himchan says.

Junhong obeys, warily lifting his gaze to meet Himchan’s.

“Better.” Himchan smiles. He averts the other’s gaze immediately and he can almost hear Himchan’s disappointment. Himchan dismisses it. “Now, may I know your name?”

Junhong swallows a lump in throat, fists clenched on his lap.

“You may speak in this household, I do not stop anyone from speaking in this house.” Himchan says, and the door behind Junhong slides open.

Hyosung comes in with tea. She serves the tea silently before walking out again. Junhong heard Himchan thanking her with a whisper.

“Your name?” Himchan drinks the tea Hyosung has poured for him and let out a little satisfied sigh after a sip. He sets the ceramic cup down and looks at Junhong expectantly again.

Junhong opens his mouth to speak. But no voice comes out. Himchan waits patiently.

“J-Junhong.”  His voice is unfamiliar even to himself and unused for so long he almost forgets how it feels like to actually speak. His throat’s scratchy from a mere word, and he has to strain to speak. “Choi Junhong.” At this his voice breaks slightly, and it’s raspy, he feels like his voice are little rocks that just stumbled out of his throat.

Himchan gestures to the tea in front of him, inviting Junhong to drink with him. “Haven’t spoken for a long time?”

Junhong nods hesitantly. Himchan gestures to the tea again. Junhong feels like he might get scolded if he doesn’t obey so he takes the cup in front of him and takes a small sip. The hot liquid hurt his chapped lips, but soothes his throat.

“Junhong is a nice name. I am Kim Himchan, and here is, Moon Jongup.” Himchan mutters, glancing at Jongup who’s writing down into the book. “And how old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“How perfect.”

Jongup scribbles.

“Now, Junhong, do you know why we purchased you?”

Junhong tensed. He’s not sure he wants to know so soon.

He shakes his head slowly.

Himchan chuckles a little, and he drinks his tea.

“How many masters have you had?”

“Two.” His voice is too low Himchan has to have him repeat his word.

“Elaborate.”

“I was taken from my home during the war.” Junhong speaks, and his throat hurts a little at such a long sentence. “At ten—” He stops. He doesn’t know if it’s because it hurts to speak, or if it hurts to recall the way his parents were slain in front of him and the way he was robbed off his home.

“Take it easy, we have the whole night.” Himchan says softly.

“A master. A rich man.” He coughs and Himchan gestures to the tea again. He takes another sip gratefully. He’s never had tea for such a long time.

Himchan, seeing his difficulty to speak offers help. “Were you a house slave?”

Junhong nods.

“What did you do?”

“Clean. Wash.” His voice is scratchy. He doesn’t think he can get used to speaking again.

Himchan waits for Jongup to stop writing. And he blinks once, and he stares at Junhong with an unfathomable look.

“And?”

The general seems to notice how Junhong tensed at the question. And his expression softens as if an apology for his knowing. He lowers his gaze, unable to look at Junhong it seems.

“Are you a virgin?”

Junhong shakes his head, frowning. He closes in on himself, gaze dropping to the floor, ashamed. His hands tremble and he clenches his fists tighter. If this is where everything is headed to he’s sure he’s maybe better off thrown away to die by the keeper for being useless.

Himchan gives a sign for Jongup to close his book. And Jongup does.

Jongup opens his mouth to say something, but with a brief raise of Himchan’s hand he stops, and shuts his mouth with a frown.

The general thinks for a moment, silently gazing into the fire of the hearth.

“You are going to be taken to bathe.” Himchan explains. “The maids will clean you up.” He stirs at the fire, as if thinking, and then he nears Junhong, looking at him earnestly. He takes a hold of Junhong’s chin. “My, what fair skin you have. A snow child, you are.” Himchan whispers.

Junhong’s trying not to shake in fear.

“I’m glad Jongup saw through the dirt on you to see the concealed fairness of your skin. That’s the most important thing for us after all.”

Junhong doesn’t understand.

“Very nice pair of eyes too.” Himchan hums. He lets go of Junhong’s chin and takes his hand. Himchan’s clean hand is such a contrast to the one he holds. Himchan’s skin is soft. “Delicate hands for a slave.” He raises his eyebrows slightly.

Himchan’s fingers tread through Junhong’s gently. There’s no sense of evil intention in the way Himchan holds his hand, Junhong’s a little comforted.

The older smiles at Junhong. “I want to see the real you during dinner.”

And with that he leaves the room with Jongup trailing behind him. Hyosung comes not even a second later and leads him out of the room, through a series of hallways and into the bathroom.

The bathroom is huge, some maids are already waiting and in the middle is a huge tub filled with steaming hot water.

“We will have to get rid of the clothes.” Hyosung says to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I have this sitting in my mind for a long time and I'm not sure if i have it ready to be posted  
> but my gut feelings are telling me to post it so i followed through and here it is  
> feedback and comments are anticipated and appreciated just pls leave me something to move on and work on in this story


	2. Chapter 2

Junhong’s skin is red. His whole body has been scrubbed so harshly, the maids unwavering when they pulled at his unkempt hair to untangle them. Even in his shame, the maids didn’t hold back cleaning him up, pulling at his limbs and scrubbing the dirt off his skin. He had held in his whimpers excruciatingly amidst the foam of soap surrounding him.

And now his skin is pulsing, sore, but the warm air soothes, he doesn’t think he has been this clean of everything, to have himself to himself with no dirt claiming him, nothing else.

They inspected him after everything was already stripped off him, the clothes, the dirt. And Junhong notices the hums from Hyosung who traces her fingers on the scars on his back. They aren’t as bad as when they were fresh, but they are still there. Marks of the past. She said nothing. Junhong isn’t sure if he’s supposed to be relieved because he wasn’t given time to think before they inspected other parts of his body despite his shame.

Hyosung leaves for a moment and Junhong wonders why as the maids let him be to fetch towels and robes.

The new robe given to him is soft, the fabric warm and comforting wrapped around him. The maids are combing his hair after cutting it short, another two trimming his nails when Hyosung comes in.

He looks down at the floor at his strands of white hair that had fallen there like the snow.

“That would have to do. Dinner’s ready, we will continue after.”

He’s taken into a grand dining room, there are other maids serving food. The table is filled with different dishes, and the dishes steaming, the delicious smell wafting in the air Junhong’s stomach grumble. He wonders if he’s allowed for the leftovers. That would be so wonderful.

He jolts when Hyosung takes his arm as he was about to join the maids on the floor in the corner.

“You’re sitting at the table.”

He’s led to the table, and confusedly seated down. Hyosung leaves him be and sits in front of the other maid at the corner.

As soon as the maids are finished serving the dishes Himchan and Jongup came in, Himchan laughing at some joke Jongup must have told him, the two smiling widely.

They sit at the table, side by side in front of Junhong, bowls of steaming rice served immediately.

Himchan holds his stare with his, looking at Junhong, as if deciphering him for who he is as a person that Junhong feels like running away. But he doesn’t because Himchan smiles almost as if he’s pleased with how Junhong turns out to be.

Junhong’s then genuinely surprised when a bowl of rice is set in front of him.

Himchan, noticing it, nods gently at him. “Enjoy your meal, you can have as much as you want.”

Junhong feels a surge of warmth in himself, the one that’s inexplicable and filling up his heart with bursting relief. He feels his eyes pooling with tears, looking at the dishes in front of him and hand trembling as he follows Himchan’s movement in picking up the chopsticks.

Himchan and Jongup eat heartily. They seem used to this, but Junhong’s breathless, losing himself because he’s scared of the prospect of all of this. At the same time he wants to indulge himself so awfully, after eating plain, dirty bread all of his life that he can remember; he wonders if he has been in fact thrown into the sea to die, and now maybe he’s in heaven that he doesn’t deserve at all.

He takes a small amount of the hot rice and feels himself crumbling inside. There are wonders of the world that is too delightful to be explained. And the grains of rice in his mouth are one of them.

The general in front of him looks at him with his mouth full, a very happy eater he seems. “Don’t hold back, please, we would love it if you enjoy the food with us.”

Junhong nods politely, slowly reaching for the nearest dish with trembling hand. His chopsticks are unable to get a hold of the greens in the bowl, and Himchan chuckles, reaching for the same dish. He places a good amount onto Junhong’s bowl, and also takes some of the lobster’s flesh on the table and places it on top.

Junhong looks at him with thanks, and Himchan nods.

He eats. And he has to close his eyes to prevent tears from falling. Food’s a wonderful pleasure he has never had for so long among the many, and he feels blessed to be in the household.

Even with his urge to gobble up everything, he holds back and eats as much as he thinks Himchan would be pleased with, and the dinner ends quite too soon. Junhong is taken to another room, and he has to bid farewell to the food silently in his heart. He’s led into the brushing room, where Himchan and Jongup join him.

“Bring me the clothes.” Himchan tells the maids and the maids scurried out of the room.

The maids come in again with robes of different fabrics. Himchan looks over them.

“Bright colors would suit him.” Himchan says, and the robes are taken away after approval.

The maids made him stand up and Hyosung takes out a measuring tape. Junhong wants to close in on himself but Hyosung pulls his arms apart with firm strength that has Junhong frozen, fearing that she might be irritated. She proceeds to take measurements of his body, and Himchan looks up with a small smile on his face, looking somewhat hopeful for something Junhong doesn’t know yet.

“How do you feel, Junhong?” Himchan asks.

Junhong has to swallow before he speaks. “I feel fine.”

Himchan laughs a little. “That is it? Fine?”

Junhong scrambles to find a better answer, in fear Himchan would scold him. “I- I feel—”

Himchan waves a hand in the air and it silences Junhong.

“I think it’s time we lay out the reason you are here.” Himchan mutters.

Junhong’s heartbeat picks up its pace. This is where he would get the bad news, he thinks.

Hyosung’s done taking the measurements, and the maids cleared out of the room. Junhong’s seated down with Himchan’s permission.

“I think it’s important that I introduce myself formally.” Himchan smiles. “I am Kim Himchan, and I am the general of the palace. I work closely with the King.” He turns to Jongup slightly. “Jongup?”

Jongup looks up from his book and catches Junhong’s eyes. Junhong quickly look down in fear it was impolite of him to look at Jongup directly. He looks down at his white knuckles instead, and they’re white. He’s clutching onto the fabric of his robe and he immediately let go before he crumples the expensive fabric.

“I am the Royal shield in training. Moon Jongup.”

Junhong stiffens but bows immediately. He never thought he would be bought off by people of the palace. Himchan and Jongup must be extremely important people to work closely with the King, and to think that Himchan has to mention that…

“I want to ask a favor from you, Junhong.” Himchan says, and he pauses, awaiting Junhong’s reaction so Junhong nods slowly, obediently. “This is a formal request for your service,” Himchan holds out a hand to Jongup who hands him a scroll. “And as your master at the moment, I want to have you listen to me closely.”

He opens up the scroll, reads it over once in his head, before placing it onto the floor between him and Junhong.

“Have you heard of the Royal New Year’s ball?”

Junhong looks down at the writing on the scroll. At a glance he already knows it is about the ball Himchan mentioned. He shakes his head, he has never heard of it.

“Well, can you read? I want you to know what this is.”

Junhong nods. And he reads over the words.

It’s a formal invitation from the royal family to the people of the kingdom. A call for everyone, especially the youth, men and women to set foot into the palace’s hall for a night of feast and dancing. At the end, there’s the royal seal.

“An invitation.” Junhong murmurs.

“Good.” Himchan seems incredibly relieved he can read. “The ball’s held every four years, usually the riches come and they bring their sons and daughters. The King and Queen will be there. It’s the time when they meet the people.”

Junhong nods, listening intently.

“Our young King has just recently replaced his late father, Junhong.” Himchan says.

That much is heard of for Junhong. The previous King has passed, and the coronation for the crown prince was not too long ago, he recalled.

But truthfully Junhong doesn’t know where this is going. He’s honestly not interested in the riches lives, they do an awful lot of unnecessary things just for small things, Junhong can only count the waste of wealth in the things they do.

“And it’s an untold tradition,” Himchan clears his throat a bit. “that the New Year’s ball is also the night when the King can and will pick out a concubine.”

At this, Himchan stares at Junhong, and Junhong stares back, his heart pounding softly and his stomach filled with food after such a long time. The fire’s crackling almost quietens down at this, the winter night so silent outside. So cold.

It’s a shame the food he has eaten might come out soon.

“So I want you—” Himchan pauses, almost concerned.  “—to go to the ball.” Himchan pushes the invitation slightly towards Junhong and Junhong gasps softly, immediately shutting his mouth close in fear. “For me.”

His fingers turn cold, at the thought of him, and the ball, the _King_. He doesn’t know how to process this and as his hand tremble Himchan takes a hold of it with both of his, clasping Junhong’s cold hand almost dearly.

“Our young King will pick his first concubine, by himself on that night.” Himchan waits for Junhong to nod in understanding, in which Junhong does hesitantly. “Junhong, will you do me a favour? To win the King’s heart?”


	3. Chapter 3

General Kim’s eyes are fixed on the slave, his stare earnest and hopeful Junhong’s heart twist and wrench because he doesn’t like how he can feel the expectation emanating from the older. He tries to pull his hand away.

“I—I don’t know why someone like me—”

There are too many things running in Junhong’s mind, and the most disturbing of all is that he was just asked to attend a royal ball in hopes that he can seduce a King. A _King._ The highest ruler of the kingdom. A person so far up there for a mere slave like him.

“Everyone’s sending in their sons and daughters to the ball, Junhong.” Himchan says immediately. “Everyone wants their child to be chosen by the King. It’s a _competition_.”

The last word has Junhong’s heart jumping in anxiety. Junhong shakes his head slightly, because he still doesn’t understand.

He looks down at the floor, his breathings stuck and Himchan comes closer, holding his hand tighter.

“Speak, Junhong. Speak out, I allow you to.”

Junhong swallows, and carefully looks at Himchan. Himchan smiles in encouragement. “Why me? There are others. Better. Out there. From a good family.”

He expects anything now, a beating or a slap, but Himchan merely nods understandingly. He hopes that the older knows he doesn’t dare defy Kim Himchan, the man who owns him at the moment, but he still doesn’t understand and is unable to comprehend why.

“You see, the families would never agree with me.” Himchan speaks in a low voice, and the crackling fire from the hearth casts shadows on his face. He seems so thoughtful with the dark shadows, the flickering light on his face still hopeful. “Everyone wants to protect their own interest, so if one of the families gets their child to be chosen by the King, they would be tightly bound with the Royal family. And that’s where they get to assert their influence on the kingdom.

“The King’s still _so young_ for all the duties, Junhong.” Himchan continues, the tone of his voice genuine. “I work with him so I know him. He’s incredibly kind and at times it gets in the way of his ruling. He’s wise but he’s still learning. I don’t want him to be a mere pawn to the rich families in the kingdom.”

Junhong sees it now, the games the rich families play every year, the way things work in the kingdom even if it’s just a small glimpse of it.

“I have been with the King, and his father all my life. I would not dare let some greedy rich people ruin this kingdom. The King has worked so hard to make sure the kingdom is as peaceful as it is now after the war.”

Himchan smiles slightly at him, his gaze confident. He should know, he should know without having to ask, but Himchan asks anyway.

“So what do you say, Junhong?”

Junhong looks at him, feels the phantom weight of his long hair and the dirt on his body that brings him down. He looks down at the hands holding his, so safe and warm.

“I will do anything you say, master.”

Himchan cups his face with a soft hand, and Junhong’s coaxed to look at him. Himchan smiles widely. “Call me Hyung, please.”

Junhong nods without hesitating. It’s the least he can do for the man who saved him from the dark room and the impending death that awaited him.

Himchan holds his stare, as if in awe, and his smile is as beautiful as the early morning sunshine Junhong vaguely remembers. Is that smile because of Junhong?

“I will see you tomorrow, I’m sure you’re tired and cold.” Himchan mutters, his thumb brushes against Junhong’s cheek once. “Hyosung will show you to your bedroom. Have a good rest, Junhong.”

Himchan lets him go and Jongup stands up behind Himchan.

Junhong feels his heart thumping at the prospect of his days in the household and when Himchan turns to leave he crawls on the floor and calls out for Himchan.

He curls and bows, pressing his forehead to Himchan’s feet.

“Thank you.” Junhong says with quivering voice, hot tears filling his eyes. “Thank you, you’re incredibly kind. You’re too kind to have gotten me out of the dark room and bring me here to your household.”

He has only known Himchan for less than a day, but the man has been kinder than anyone he has ever met. He has never been treated this kindly, never been served with good food like Himchan has done and it’s more than he had ever asked for in the world.

“Rise, Junhong.”

Junhong doesn’t want to. He’s afraid if he does Himchan would see his tears stricken face and finds him appalling.

Himchan sighs, and squats down. His gentle fingers treads through Junhong’s short hair, brushing the wet cheek and then he carefully lifts Junhong’s head by the chin.

He looks at Junhong’s face, all soaked with tears of gratefulness and chuckles a little. He wipes the tears away with his sleeve, it’s completely unnecessary for Junhong – he is a slave after all, and the dried ones are replaced by the fresh ones, but Himchan does it anyway and it has Junhong melting on the floor.

“You’re already this soft for a mere general.” Himchan murmurs softly. “Makes me think of just how much the King would love you.”

Junhong can’t seem to say anything.

“Please rest, now.” Himchan nods slightly and gently lets him go, walking out of the room with a wave of his sleeve.

Jongup looks down at Junhong, and nods before leaving.

Hyosung comes in and goes to crying boy on the floor. When she sees the tears she laughs a little.

“I see why Himchan and Jongup brought you here.” She says and offers no explanation as she ushers him to his bed room.

In which he finds warm futon laid out on the warm floor, with a proper pillow and blanket. Hyosung blows the candles, and the room’s dark as Junhong lies under the blanket.

He’s never slept so well despite his nervousness.

And maybe it was because he’s finally found himself to be truly _safe._

 

 

 

“Do you read a lot?”

“I used to.” Junhong’s fiddling with the sleeve of the kimono he was given to wear in the morning when Hyosung woke him up, well not really. He woke up early after a rather short sleep, his heart hammering in his chest even as he woke up and he stayed in his room, scared to even go out before Hyosung checked up on him.

He’s now in Himchan’s study, being questioned for profiling, as Himchan has worded it.  

“In my old master’s house.” Junhong mutters. He remembers sneaking around in the night, and taking a book with him into the basement. He would light a lantern and read until the wee hours of the morning.

Himchan smiles. “That’s one thing off the list.” He says, and Jongup seems to cross off something in his book. “What kind of things did you read?”

Junhong presses his lips together. He reads tales and poetries mostly, it was what his master seemed to love and in turn Junhong loved it too. With such limitations on the things he read, he has never touched a book that people would say bring most benefits. Like books on medicine, or politics.

“Junhong.” Himchan calls out, noticing Junhong hesitating.

“Poetries, and some tales.” He answers meekly. His voice is getting steadier, he’s getting used to speaking.

Himchan smiles. “That’s good.” Himchan mutters, and Jongup takes a note of it. “Why did you hesitate to answer?”

Junhong hesitates again and Himchan gives him a stern look. Fearing a scolding Junhong blurts, “I’m uneducated, I’ve never read books for knowledge.”

“Are you saying literatures aren’t knowledge?”

Junhong stutters to answer, he doesn’t mean it that way but he can’t seem to find a better explanation.

“Junhong,” Himchan seems to sigh a little. “Literature is the foundation of knowledge, I would say. Without it, the transmission of knowledge is impossible. And in those books the students read in schools these days, in their training to become a doctor or soldier,” He pauses. “lack the essence of humanity that only literature can bring. Do you agree?”

Junhong nods. He’s not even pretending to agree. Himchan seems to have voiced out what he wanted to say all along. He pieced every thought together very precisely; he’s fluent and coherent, something Junhong aspires to be.

“What can you do? Do you have any skills or talent?”

Junhong thinks for a moment. He doesn’t remember having anything he can do that others can’t. All his life he has only cleaned and washed clothes which he tried really hard to do perfectly, worked in a few places before he gets kicked out for being too clumsy. Maybe clumsiness is a skill that he possessed, if it is even considered a skill. But Junhong knows he’s especially good at it though.

“I don’t… have any.”

He braces himself for anything Himchan might say, but Himchan’s only silent for a while.

“Musical instruments?”

“No.”

Himchan shifts in his seat. “Painting?”

Junhong shakes his head. He doesn’t know what good he is for Himchan when he’s this useless and he’s ashamed of himself.

“Callygraphy?” No. “Crafts?” No. “Sewing?”

Junhong looks at Himchan and he’s very disappointed in himself. He lowers his head and shakes his head, biting at his lips.

“There must be something.” Himchan says.

“I’ve only been a slave. I’m only good at being a slave.”

“Don’t say that.” Himchan retorts. “That’s nonsense, I refuse to believe there’s even a person in this world who is left without a special skill or talent.”

Junhong doesn’t say anything because he is that person. He thinks of the children of the rich families, who must have all the time in the world with all the opportunities to try out everything they want to do and to love what they do. He’s envious.

“Himchan-Hyung.” Jongup speaks up after a long silence. “Maybe you can teach him to play instruments.”

Junhong looks up at Himchan hopefully. Himchan sighs.

“We only have less of a winter left before the ball. I don’t think I can teach him to play skilfully. The King would see through it. He’s had even better musicians play for him anyway.”

Junhong’s shoulders drop in defeat. Himchan notices.

“Well, anything you have always liked to do?” Himchan asks.

Junhong doesn’t ever have the time to himself to do what he likes, aside from reading. But even having the time to read was a distant time ago, when he was really young. He hasn’t read a book since.

“Something you did as a child maybe?” Himchan offers.

Junhong feels even more defeated. Maybe some other slaves are better than him.

Why was he a slave anyway? How could his life turned this way?

He had such a good life with his family before the war, living by the hills and having family meals.

“I dance.” Junhong suddenly says before he could catch himself. Remembering. He looks up at Himchan. It’s the one thing he loved to do, but it was a long time ago, even before he was captured and taken away from home.

Himchan beams. “See? I told you there must be something.”

Junhong smiles, but it feels bitter to smile, so he frowns. “I’ve never danced anymore. I’m afraid I would be terrible at it now.”

“Nonsense!” Himchan waves a hand in the air. “To dance takes an inborn talent. I’m sure you still have it in you. Come on! Show us!”

Junhong hesitates. He’s not sure if this is the right thing to have Himchan know, but he’s just been so desperate to seem of use, and to seem like he’s worth something he has maybe said something he shouldn’t have.

“Get up now.”

Junhong slowly, hesitantly gets on his feet, and he stands tilted. He straightens himself as Himchan gestures to the other side of the room.

Junhong walks slowly, feeling his fingers and toes turning cold as ice.

“You walk very carefully and gently, Junhong.” Himchan says. “It’s a merit, especially if you want to live in the palace.”

“Junhong doesn’t need to train his walking style.” Jongup says, writing something in his book.

 _But they don’t know_ , Junhong thinks, as he looks at them in nervousness.

“Alright, dance now.” Himchan takes a sip of his tea and watches expectantly.

Junhong stands still. He clenches his fists at his sides as Himchan and Jongup wait. He feels his lips trembling. He’s never done this. He’s never danced. Not ever since—

“I can’t dance.” Junhong blurts and he wants to punish himself for being so foolish. Especially in front of the general who practically saved his life.

“What do you mean?” Himchan asks carefully, furrowing his eyebrows. He crosses his arms across his chest.

Junhong feels his ankle pulsing and crumbles down to the ground almost painfully. He bows and presses his forehead on his hands on the floor.

“I can’t dance.” He says, trembling. “I lied. I apologize, my master, I will take any beating or any punishment you have for me. I shouldn’t have done that, I regret my actions.”

“Junhong.” Himchan sighs a little. “I think with the way you said you can dance, we all know you weren’t lying.”

Junhong doesn’t say anything. He’s scared for his life. He has promised the general his service but he’s incapable. He deserves hell if anything.

“Why can’t you—” Himchan takes a deep breath. “—why _won’t_ you dance?”

Junhong doesn’t dare lift his head. “I can’t.”

“Lift your head up and talk to me properly.”

Junhong shuts his eyes tightly, willing himself not to cry.

“Lift your head up.” Himchan says. And when Junhong doesn’t Himchan stands up, almost sternly. “I said, lift your head up and talk properly.”

Junhong whimpers, fists trembling. He lifts his head a little, and curls back onto the floor. Himchan can hit him with anything and he would be glad for it. He deserves it anyway. He was taken into such a nice household only to be unable to repay his master for the things he was given. He must be the most ungrateful slave Himchan has ever met.

Himchan huffs, walking to Junhong.

“Junhong.” Himchan says firmly. “I want truth and only truth in this household. Speak the truth to me.”

Junhong doesn’t answer. He’s going to get thrown out if he answers, and it’s cold out there. He can’t stand the cold at all. He’d bear any beating over the harsh cold of winter.

“Jongup.” Himchan calls.

Jongup gets up, his footsteps thudding on the floor and into Junhong’s head. Jongup’s beside Junhong in a matter of seconds.

“Junhong I want you to lift your head up.” Jongup whispers, a hand on Junhong’s back that made the slave flinch.

Junhong’s scared, and Jongup brushes his back comfortingly.

“He will not hurt you.”

Jongup wraps his arm around Junhong and lifts the younger, Junhong’s eyes filled with tears and looking down at the floor shamefully. He’s shaking from fear and Jongup holds him in place.

“Speak the truth.” Himchan says again, looking down at the blond boy in front of him.

Junhong’s scared of the prospect of lying, so he resides to truth. Even though he knows it would render him worthless to the general. He has gotten more than he had wanted in one night, and maybe this is how he pays.

“My leg.” Junhong murmurs. “I can’t dance because of my leg.”

Himchan shifts from one foot to another. “Why?”

“I broke it a long time ago.”

“Jongup.”

Jongup gestures with a hand to let him see, and Junhong wavers. Jongup gives him an assuring look and hesitantly, Junhong pulls his leg out, and Jongup wraps a hand around his ankle. When he squeezes slightly Junhong holds in his whimper because it hurts.

“It seems the bone’s broken at the ankle.” Jongup tells Himchan.

“When did this happen?” Himchan asks.

“During my stay with my first master.” Junhong bows his head.

Himchan squats to inspect for himself. Jongup lets him wrap a hand around Junhong’s ankle.

“And this never healed properly?”

Junhong nods shamefully.

“It was never treated?”

“Yes.”

Himchan stares at the white ankle he’s holding on to.

“What happened?” Himchan asks, his voice lowered, but still firm and it shows how he’s a general in the palace with how firm he can be when he wants to.

His fingers are gentle, and soft, Junhong wants to pull away, but he’s afraid to do so.

“Speak the truth, and only the truth, Junhong.”

Junhong swallows, and blinks away his tears. “My master,” he shuts his eyes, remembering the past. It was painful, it was the painful thing he has ever felt. It wasn’t just the broken bone that never healed properly, that rendered him weak and incapable, but it was his inability to dance. He never danced after he broke his leg, and it made him mad. He remembers how angry he had been, and how he had been unable to channel the anger, turning into himself and feeling sorrowful for all the things that were taken from him. “He trampled on my leg.” His voice quivers. “It was my fault.”

“What did you do?”

“I tried to run away.”

“Why?”

“He was cruel.” And Junhong chokes on his tears, fists clenched. “I was scared of him.”

“Then it’s not your fault.”

“It is, I shouldn’t have tried to escape.” Junhong sobs, tears now streaming down his face. The old man who owned him had laughed when he cried in pain, unable to run away with his broken ankle crushed under the man’s foot.

 _This is a lesson to you_ , the old man had said.

He tries to turn away, cover his face. The general shouldn’t see him like this, an abomination, a disgrace.

“He wasn’t just cruel, wasn’t he?” Himchan muttered. “He _hurt_ you.”

Junhong shakes his head. He shouldn’t have tried to run away. He had hope and it was crushed as swiftly as he lost his ability to dance. From that time, he was unable to stand properly, let alone walk properly, and his owner had taken advantage of that. Even when he was with his second owner it has earned him so much spite for being unable to do his work properly. Even the keeper hates him because he’s not worthy to be sold, he can’t work in the field and no one wants a slave with a broken ankle like him. All he did was take up unnecessary space in the keeper’s place, and it meant the keeper was wasting a lot of coppers on a slave he cannot even sell.

“I wasn’t worth the payment you gave the keeper.” Junhong cries. “I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier. I am worth nothing. I am a useless slave. I will take whatever consequence you have for me.”

And it’s silent, Junhong doesn’t dare to look at the two with him in the room. His heart is pounding for all the things that make him anxious in the world.

“A misfortune, that your ankle is broken.” Himchan whispers. “But as we said earlier, you walk very softly, don’t you? Your broken ankle lets you take great care towards your steps. Most people cannot master the art of treading through places softly and gently as you do. It takes great practice.”

Himchan brushes at his ankle soothingly. “A misfortune, but a fortune at the end, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm begging for comments to help me work on progressing through the story. Please, one comment saves a life, the life being mine.


	4. Chapter 4

At night Junhong find himself completely unable to doze off. He knows he should rest for tomorrow. Himchan said his lessons will start and there’s a lot to learn and catch up on. It makes him even more nervous that even when he lies in his room he can feel his hands and feet shaking.

He needs to calm his nerves so he gets out of the room silently, grateful for the smooth sliding door.

The hall’s dark, he hopes no one’s awake. He knows what kind of consequences he can get if he’s caught walking around with no permission.

He looks down at his feet when he walks, recalling Himchan and Jongup’s words of how he walks softly. It’s a little ironic, when he thinks about it. That his biggest misfortune has him fit to tread in the presence of a King.

Just the thought of the King has his heart lurching, so he shooes the thought away. He just needs to focus on what Himchan wants him to learn. The King can wait once he’s ready.

“Do you have any regrets?”

There are hushed words that echo in the silence of the hallway. Junhong looks around, and is sure no one is near. But when he looks closer ahead he can see just a small stream of light coming from a door.

He approaches it curiously.

“No, I don’t, Jongup.”

When Junhong got to the door he peeks. The small gap allows him to see inside of the candle lit room. He feels soft breeze from the outside. The doors to the balcony are open, and on the balcony, are Himchan and Jongup, who has his head resting on Himchan’s lap.

“You always say that.” Jongup whispers almost tiredly.

Himchan sighs, from where Junhong stood he can only see the back of the general. “I’m never regretful.” And he adds, “Just guilty, maybe.”

Jongup chuckles a little, Himchan’s hand reaching for his hair. “His Majesty won’t be happy to hear that.”

“He just wants people to be happy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m happy just to have this. This moment, I’m just happy I’m allowed for this.”

Jongup turns slightly and Junhong sees his hand reaching for the older’s face. “Is that why you’re so adamant on making His Majesty happy?”

“Everyone deserves happiness, Jongup. Look where it got us.”

Jongup chuckles, Himchan strokes his hair. “And you’re sure Junhong will be chosen?”

Junhong feels like he might vomit at the mention of his own name and a question of his ability. He shouldn’t be listening to this, but for some reason his feet are stuck. He doesn’t understand anything, he just wants to do as Himchan told him to but he really wants to listen too.

Himchan laughs. It sounds warm, and nice in the quiet night. “Do you dare to deny my abilities? I know him, _you_ know him. He will choose Junhong in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t underestimate Junhong, I found him after all. But you? Not so much.”

Himchan scoffs and they both laugh.

Junhong finds himself smiling a little. Not because of the way Himchan has hope for him – that sets his heart racing—but from how wonderful it must be, to be like Himchan and Jongup. To be able to share an intimate moment like that where they can hold and assure each other. It calms Junhong that they’re purely happy. With how good of a person they are, Junhong knows they deserve it.

He walks away; they don’t need a slave like Junhong eavesdropping on them. Despite being a little warmed after witnessing such a heartwarming scene between the two good hearts; Junhong hates himself for stealing a little piece of it secretly.

Because unlike them, Junhong doesn’t deserve happiness.

 

 

 

 

Junhong’s left with Hyosung the next day while Himchan and Jongup have left for the palace. Himchan has said he has work to do and will be meeting the King. He told Junhong to listen well to Hyosung.

“Hyosung is also a fine dancer if I say so myself.” He has said, leaving Junhong to Hyosung’s care. 

Junhong feels even more nervous to be in the household without Himchan, and knowing that Himchan is with the King, sets his heart lurching in so many ways.

Hyosung’s examining his ankle in the hearth room. There are maids walking all around the house, cleaning and making sure the fire in the hearth doesn’t go out.

“It’s left untreated for so long I think it’s impossible for it to recover.” Hyosung sighs.

Junhong lowers his head, looking at his ankle. He didn’t have high hopes for a recovery— he has lived a huge part of his life with a broken ankle, but it’s still a little saddening knowing he will live with it forever, and rendered unable to dance.

“Have you ever danced after?”

Junhong shakes his head. “It hurts to even stand for too long, so I can’t dance.”

Hyosung places a hand on his knee, and her expression’s serious. Her lips a firm line. “But you never tried.”

“If it hurts standing for even a little amount of time—”

“Nonsense.” She shakes her head and motions for him to stand. Junhong has a feeling she picked the habit of saying that from Himchan.

When he stands he’s careful not to put weight on his broken ankle.

“I trust you do not need music.” She nods.

 

 

 

At night Himchan visits Junhong in his bedroom. Junhong closes the book on his lap upon Himchan’s entrance and straighten himself up, lowering his head after he bows.

“I heard about the dance lesson with Hyosung.” Himchan says, sighing almost tiredly and taking a seat on the cushion laid out on the floor.

“I didn’t mean to.” Junhong murmurs.

Himchan smiles a little. “You lose your balance a lot, so what?”

Junhong looks up at him through his eyelashes. “If it prevails until the end of winter…”

“Hyosung said she can see you dancing just fine real soon. And she said so with great determination, Junhong. Said you’re a great dancer too, despite your broken ankle.”

Junhong presses his lips together. “I will do anything, to perfect my dancing, if it means it can get the King’s attention.”  He holds onto the edges of his book, he had been so angry that he had been stumbling in his steps, that he trips so easily. “But should I be really incapable because of my ankle, I—”

“Apologize?” Himchan asks, and he laughs emptily. “I trust you enough to know that you will be dancing gracefully for the King soon. You need to have confidence Junhong. It’s step one to have someone desire you.”

Junhong stares at him. It’s hard to decipher how Himchan has so much assurance that he can do it when he feels like an immense failure.

“Confidence.” Junhong opens the book, and goes to the first chapter.

Himchan looks down at the page. There’s the chapter titled ‘Confidence’. “Already studying diligently?”

Junhong nods, “Hyosung gave me books,” And he beams, he was happy to receive all the books. “She says it will help me train myself to meet the King.”

The older stares at him with an unfathomable expression and Junhong blinks confusedly.

“Don’t stay up too late. Take a rest as well, you have your lessons tomorrow, don’t you?” Himchan pats his shoulder comfortingly instead, a gesture Junhong has received so seldom that his heart bursts with warmth of gratitude.

He nods, and Himchan leaves as Junhong bows.

He stays up late anyway, absorbing all the words he read on the book. He falls asleep with the book open beside him. And he dreams of the King.

There’s a familiarity in the warmth and coolness of the dream. The light bathes him with feeling of contentment.

_Has he dreamed this before?_

The King has warm hand that takes his so gently. He can’t see any face. But the fingers and the palm against his are clear. He can feel them. He thinks they are floating somewhere.

 

 

 

 

Hyosung’s ruthless when she needs to be.

“Once more.” She motions for the musician to play her stringed instrument and Junhong pushes himself up.

Despite the cold winter, he’s sweating profusely, furious and frustrated. Hyosung has come up with a beautiful dance routine, but it’s extremely demanding of Junhong’s ankle. Despite all that, though, Junhong’s determined.

He’s given a handkerchief as a prop, and he was told he needed to let it flow in the air like water.

He has everything he needs in the movement of his arms, but it’s the legs that are bothering him. He’s stumbling onto the floor again and the music stops. He wants to scream at himself.

“Once more.” Hyosung says.

Junhong’s tired, it’s not even noon yet, and he’s been practicing since early morning.

He pushes himself up, and when his ankle fails him, he groans slightly. In the coldest season his ankle hurts excruciatingly, it’s as if the bones are screaming. But when Junhong thinks of Himchan in the palace with the King he feels like he can’t complain. He _shouldn’t_.

By the end of practice, his ankle’s swollen.

The maids are preparing for the next lesson on basic manners, and Junhong’s wincing at the throbbing pain in his ankle.

“Does it hurt?” Hyosung asks, opening her book on the table in front of her.

Junhong opts to shake his head, but Hyosung sees right through his pain stricken face and he answers, “Yes.”

“Mind your expression, Junhong, especially in front of the King. And please memorize your routine.” She merely says and starts explaining about bowing in front of royalty.

 

 

 

 

Junhong’s in tears. He’s not crying but the tears are there as one by one strike hits the palm of his hand.

They have been doing this since after lunch, and Junhong never knew how hard it is to memorize multiplications.

“One mistake equals one strike.” Hyosung has said, and Junhong has been determined, only to find himself scrambling to think of numbers and multiplications. “The King seeks an eligible partner and you need to be smart to be so. You need to catch up with all the noble women and men.”

His palm is red, he feels the skin throbbing.

Himchan comes into the room as Hyosung is giving him five strikes and he winces as he watches.

“Multiplications, I assume?” Himchan asks and as he sits down the maids serve him tea.

Junhong bows his head, ashamed of himself for achieving nothing since the start of the day.

“We are halfway there.” Hyosung answers curtly, raising the cane in her hand to give the final blow.

Junhong bites his lips to suppress the pain, tears accumulating again in his eyes.

“I pity Junhong, Hyosung, can you be more gentle to him?” Himchan asks, his lips downturned at the redness on Junhong’s palm.

Junhong doesn’t mind the punishments, he deserved every single one of it. He has taken worse beatings for things he didn’t do.

Hyosung looks at Himchan, almost glaring. “And you’re the one who wants him to win the King’s heart?” She asks.

Himchan chuckles, almost embarrassed. “You will do fine, I trust you Junhong.”

Junhong nods silently, still unable to look at Himchan in the eyes.

When they proceed and Junhong makes a mistake again; Hyosung raises her eyebrows and Junhong surrenders his palm.

“I will leave the two of you then. I can’t stand to watch this.” Himchan leaves, and Hyosung proceeds again.

Junhong’s told he’s not going to have dinner if he doesn’t finish this, so he tries his best, enduring the cane hitting his skin. He thinks he’s going to bleed soon, and he does, even if it’s only a little blood, but with every strike it’s causing even more pain. Hyosung only stops because she can’t have his palms rough with cuts, so she made him lift his robe up his calves and Junhong bites his fist as one by one strike hits the back of his legs.

When he has finished the lesson, excruciatingly, he’s allowed for dinner. It’s late already, Himchan and Jongup have probably already gone to their rooms to sleep.

So he’s alone at the dining table, looking down at the dishes. He’s forever grateful that even with his incompetency he’s allowed for food at the end of the day.

He struggles to pick up his chopsticks, and tears filled his eyes as the skin of his palm stings.

He eats a little. Unable to use his chopsticks properly and to eat as he pleased because Hyosung’s watching his table etiquette.

 

 

 

 

Winter’s approaching its end. The Royal New Year’s ball is nearing.

The maids are busy with the fabrics for Junhong's robe for the ball arriving and taking measurements already. The fabrics are soft, beautiful Junhong cannot even picture himself wearing it. And just staring at the fabric makes him nervous.

Everyday’s also a rigorous day of lessons and practices for Junhong. He’s learned that he has so much to learn, so much to change in himself to suit the perfect character of a King’s concubine.

At the end of the day he’s always rendered tired, and weak. And then when he thinks of all the mistakes he has done in the day, he would feel the tears rolling down his cheeks.

He’s told that there would be a lot of other people in the ball. Noble, young men and women raised all their lives to perfection in a rich family, and he heard some are even raised especially to be a concubine. He doesn’t know if he can compete with such people, he has lived most of his life as a slave, he cannot recite the multiplications with ease, it’s supposed to be easy even for a ten year old but he’s still struggling and his calves are red.

At times he feels like he’d rather give it all up and have Himchan throw him into the sea.

Even in dancing he is failing. The thing he loves most to do, the thing he’s supposed to be the best at.

He wishes he hadn’t tried to run away on the night his ankle was trampled on. Perhaps he would excel in dancing now, and Hyosung would be satisfied with his dancing and that’s one less worry.

He thought he can get by if he just tries his best and hardest, but when he thinks about the ball, the King and the many people he has to compete with he feels powerless and helpless.

He doesn’t even know if the King will like him, or even desire him. He’s never been desired by another person, truly, at least, so he has no clue if he’s capable of it.

What is the King like?

Is he firm, and stern like Himchan? Quiet and mysterious like Jongup? Or cruel and violent like his previous masters?

What if he goes to the ball and he’s not chosen? What would happen then?

Would he be subjected to death?

Maybe that would suffice to make up for his failure.

Junhong thinks about Himchan being disappointed in him. And it hurts. He only wants to do what Himchan wants of him, to thank him for his kindness but it’s difficult, and uncertain.

“Junhong?”

Junhong turns away from the window he’s been staring out of, wiping his tear filled eyes immediately, and it’s Jongup standing by the door. Junhong sits properly and bows as Jongup walks in.

“Himchan-hyung told me you’d probably still be studying.” Jongup smiles a little, gesturing towards the book on Junhong’s lap.

“I can’t afford to waste any time since the ball is getting closer.” Junhong answers timidly. He has been reading the book since his lesson ended and he’s only halfway there. He promises himself to never let his thoughts astray again. No one wants an aloof, daydreaming slave.

“I hope you know it’s also important to rest well.” Jongup says, sitting beside him.

Junhong nods.

“Hyosung told us you’re improving in your dancing.” Jongup turns slightly towards him, looking at him for a second before looking out at the snow falling through the window again. “She will not say it directly to you, in fear it would hinder your effort in getting better, but I think you should know this.”

“I’m tripping over my own feet a lot, I will not stop until I perfect my dance.”

“Good.” Jongup looks at him. He blinks. “Stop frowning, Junhong.”

In turn, Junhong blinks. He presses his lips together, embarrassed. Hyosung told him he should mind his expression, especially when he meets the King. He needs to master the skill of creating a mask for himself.

“I know you are worried about the ball, we all are.” Jongup smoothes the fabric of his robe and takes a breath. “If you worry too much it can affect your condition.”

Junhong nods.

“Speak to me. What are your worries?”

Junhong clenches his fists on his lap. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to genuinely express his worries. He shouldn’t even be worrying, he’s supposed to just do exactly what Himchan says; win the King’s heart.

“I—I’m scared.”

Jongup quirks an eyebrow. “Why should you be? The only thing we see in you is potential. You’re a very determined one, Junhong. Himchan’s pleased with how hard you are working for this.”

Junhong feels like a child, and Jongup’s just trying to make him feel better. Surely Himchan can’t be pleased with how he trips over his own foot?

“May I ask you a question?” Junhong murmurs, heart racing in fear of Jongup forbidding him to. A slave shouldn’t be given the luxury of questioning their masters.

“Go ahead.”

Junhong bites his lips, and with how Jongup looks at him with a soft gaze he’s grateful Jongup is allowing him this. But it’s the only thing he thinks would help him with all he’s enduring.

“What kind of a person is the King?”

Jongup blinks and smiles. As if he’s been waiting for the question. And maybe he has been. “The King.” He says. “Himchan and I’ve known him ever since we were young. We’ve been raised alongside His Majesty. My life was built around serving the King. But we played around together a lot too, when we were young.”

Junhong cannot imagine Jongup and Himchan being a child like he was once. They seem to be so mature and wise to have ever been immature and foolish. And the King, the faceless King. To think he has grown up alongside the General and his Royal Shield.

“The King, well the King just recently replaced his own father after his father’s death due to sickness. You should know, his father’s reign was quite an intense time for the kingdom. His father was stern and unforgiving, which makes me wonder how His Majesty grew up to be so compassionate and kind.” Jongup chuckles at the thought. “After such a frightening reign of his own father, it seems he’s trying to clean up the mess. The involvement of the kingdom during the war in the North, the unfair policies… he thinks about the people a lot. I guess that’s why the people are celebrating him more than his own father. He is, by the people’s words, a true King. But a young one; even he admits he has a lot to learn. Nevertheless, he earned himself a lot of admirers too among the people.”

Junhong tries to picture the man Jongup’s describing; a young, handsome King with a warm smile and warm hands. Maybe the King would have very nice nose too, and nice voice that would suit his personality. Because surely with all the virtues Jongup has laid out, he would have it matched with his looks. Junhong hopes he likes to watch performances, so Junhong can dance for him and he would find pleasure in watching.

“Junhong?”

Junhong breaks out of his reverie and looks at Jongup almost surprisedly.

“You’re smiling.”

Junhong covers his mouth with a hand immediately, and he feels the heat coming up to his cheeks.  He shouldn’t have smiled even if he didn’t mean to.

“What about the general? Would he say the same thing?” he finds himself asking, curiosity peaking.

Jongup looks out the window, a small smile on his face. “I’m pretty sure it will be a little different,” He sees Junhong’s confused look and explained, “It’s his own story to tell, I’m afraid.”

Junhong blinks sheepishly, lowering his head because he didn’t mean to intrude. Curiosity got better of him it seemed.

Jongup laughs a bit and pats the younger’s shoulder. “The King’s a fine young man, handsome too. I’m sure you would be glad to meet him in person.”

The younger nods, and Jongup gets up to leave.

Before Jongup got to the door, Junhong speaks out, and he didn’t realize he has done so until Jongup smiles at him.

“What kind of a friend is the King to you and Himchan?”

“A very good one.”

 

 

 

 

“This is not good.” Himchan sighs, his hand retreating from Junhong’s forehead.

Junhong has been bedridden since morning, his whole body aches and burns from the inside, his eyes are filled with hot tears and he’s sweating in the cold.

“This will delay all the lessons.” Hyosung says, squeezing the water from the cloth in her hands into a bowl beside her. She dabs it onto Junhong’s forehead.

Junhong looks up at the face of concerned Himchan. “I’m sorry.” He croaks out, he feels so useless and unproductive, Himchan must hate him now. Hyosung even has more things to do, he’s such a burden in the household when he’s merely a slave.

Himchan shakes his head.

“How many days until the ball?” Junhong hears Himchan asks Jongup behind him in a whisper.

“Thirteen.” Jongup answers in the same low voice.

“I have to go to the palace.” Himchan says to Hyosung, and looks down at Junhong again. He bends down a little. “Rest, Junhong.”

He leaves swiftly, there’s urgency in his step. Himchan has a lot of work to do from what Junhong sees and meanwhile he’s in his bed and is doing nothing when he should focus on the ball that is nearing.

A maid comes in with herbal tea and Hyosung urges him to drink it. Junhong controls his expression when the bitterness of the tea hits him, he hopes he covers it well and doesn’t offend Hyosung.

Hyosung then leaves him alone to rest. And Junhong can’t sleep. He won’t even let himself. There are limited days until the ball, and he still hasn’t perfected his dance. He still has problem with his ankle and it hurts immensely, but he’s not going to take any shortcut and make excuses.

After what feels like an hour, Junhong slips out of the thick blankets, and leads himself into the hearth room. Hyosung is at the hearth, reading a book. When she notices him she frowns.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

“I’m here for my dance lesson.” Junhong says, closing the door behind him and sitting on the floor, head lowered. He gathers his sleeves in his fists.

Hyosung sighs almost exasperatedly. “Did you hear what the general said? He wants you to rest.”

“I can’t rest. I need to dance, for the King.” Junhong reasons and Hyosung closes her book. He flinches at the sound, head and heart pounding.

“You have a fever, Junhong. Go back to bed. I will not be responsible if it gets worse.”

“But—”

“What good is your ankle when you’re this sick?”

Junhong bites his tongue. He knows. He knows his ankle is no good, it’s never good even when he’s well, and it drives him insane. He goes to sleep every night and he’s regretful of everything that has led to his broken ankle.

Hyosung stands up and leaves the room. The door shuts with a soft slam and then it’s quiet all around Junhong.

Junhong’s angry. At everything.

He gets up and proceeds to practice. He falls over a few times because of his ankle and his whirling head but when he thinks of Himchan and the King, he doesn’t want to stop.

He doesn’t know how many hours he stays in the room alone, dancing his anger away, only to have it replaced by sadness and hopelessness.

There’s no way he’s going to be chosen by the King. Surely it’s apparent that he’s a mere slave who’s cleaned up to look at least presentable. Surely the King can see through him. There are young men and women out there who are beautiful in all ways, more competent than Junhong, lived their lives for this one single night to live in the palace.

When he crumbles on the floor he realizes he’s crying profusely. His chest is tight, he's shaking. His ankle is hurting. The only thing, the only one thing he has faith in, is the only thing he can never do properly.

“You poor boy.”

Junhong doesn’t get the chance to lift his head before he’s engulfed in the warmth of a pair of arms that are wrapped around him so tightly.

“What are you doing here late at night?” Himchan asks, worried.

Junhong cries, never understanding why Himchan is holding him dearly like this when he’s failing his master.

“I can’t dance for the King.” Junhong sobs, and chokes on his tears. Himchan holds him tighter, rocking him on the floor.

“Yes, yes you can. You’re a great dancer, Junhong.”

Junhong shakes his head, and tries to make Himchan let him go. He’s making the fabric of Himchan’s robe wet, and he knows that can mean a beating. But Himchan doesn’t let go.

“Why didn’t you rest?”

“I can’t. I get restless, I want to do what you say. I want to capture the King’s heart, and I can’t do that if I can’t dance.”

Himchan pulls away just enough to look at Junhong in the eyes. He cups the boy’s face with both of his hands, his cold fingers against the burning skin and scalding tears. He wipes them away.

“You’re so stubborn.” Himchan sighs.

Junhong’s tears are unstoppable.

“What happens if he doesn’t choose me?” Junhong asks, his voice broken, hiccuping. He’s looking at Himchan with teary eyes, desperate. He knows he shouldn’t have asked, but the room is so cold and Himchan is so warm he only wants to know.

Himchan brushes his thumbs against Junhong’s red cheeks and smiles softly. “That will never happen.” The smile holds a million meaning, Junhong can see it, but he’s clueless. “There’s a reason we chose you. And that is only because we know the King will choose you.”

Junhong shakes his head, he cannot grasp it but Himchan dismisses it. Himchan brings him to his room instead and insists that he rest.

Junhong lies down, and thinks about the smile Himchan gave him. He closes his eyes and can only think of the dance routine. He feels himself dancing on the floor, feet gliding.

And that’s when he finally understands.

The routine Hyosung made, and the thing she never tells, is that the dance can be danced without Junhong’s right ankle.

He pushes the blankets off himself immediately, heart racing, in which he has to calm himself down, and when he attempts to dance, it all makes sense.

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t realized this before. He’s so fixed on his broken ankle he’s neglected the other one. He almost cries again as he dances in the night.

And on the last day of lesson, when Himchan, Jongup and Hyosung sit down to watch him dance, it’s perfect. And he’s floating on his feet. The handkerchief in his hand flows like graceful koi fish in the water.

“The most important lesson is, don’t focus on your flaws, and focus on your strength.”

He’s ready.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's not too choppy?? And thanks for the support so far ;;


	5. Chapter 5

The snow has stopped that day. The ground is still white but the sun is brighter.

Junhong spends all day getting ready for the ball that night. He’s fitting into his robe and the maids are scurrying all around with everything for the preparation. He has two layers of robe; the outer one for the household, and the other one for himself. As with tradition, a third layer was for the family, but Junhong doesn’t own a family, so the robe lay folded in one corner of the room. And he remembers his mother who taught him to dance and read, his father with his calloused, hardworking hands, and his brother who died protecting him.

Himchan has left early, with a few words of good luck and an assurance that Junhong would do just fine. He apologized for being unable to accompany him to the ball, he was a high general and he needed to be there in the palace with the King.

Junhong’s hands shake as Hyosung colors his white cheeks, and paints his lips to seem like cherries in the coming spring.

“Nervous?” Hyosung asks, tying the ribbon on his robe.

The fabrics are lavish like the ones Himchan wore when Junhong first met him, and they’re heavy, it weighs down Junhong’s shoulders, or maybe the apprehension is. There are embroideries of flowers, which aren’t too obvious to take the attention from the person wearing itself, but just enough decorations to complement.

Junhong blinks, looking down at his hands folded in front of him. He’s trying to stop them from shaking.

“Very nervous.”

Hyosung offers him a small smile. “You have perfected your dance, and you excel in everything already. You have nothing to worry about.”

“But the other people.” Junhong mutters under his breath and Hyosung heard him.

“Remember, the King is only a human. If you remember all that you’ve learned, with good manners you can catch his attention just fine. He’s been sheltered all his life, if anything, he’s extremely vulnerable to seduction.”

Junhong nods. His fingertips are cold, his toes too. His stomach is curling and twisting, he didn’t eat much in the morning because he didn’t have any appetite with all that is coming. He has to take care of his appearance, so he wasn’t allowed to stuff himself too.

“You’re ready.” Hyosung assures, wiping away a smudge of red from Junhong’s lips. “The King will choose you, the general knows very well what he’s looking for.”

She motions for him to come closer, the sun is setting outside. The ball is near.

He gasps in surprise when Hyosung tightens the sash around his waist. His body feels cold all over, there’s a strange gnawing in his stomach and he could hardly breathe.

“Relax,” Hyosung says, tying a knot with both of her hands. “You’re stopping yourself from breathing.”

She’s right, because Junhong takes a deep breath and he feels the oxygen filling his lungs. But when he exhales there’s an unsettled feeling deep inside his chest that he cannot shake off.

He doesn’t think he can dance in this tight, heavy robe. What if he meets the King and he’s rendered unable to neither breathe nor speak?

“It’s a little tight because it’s only for another to untie.” Hyosung mutters, fixing the knot holding Junhong’s robe together. “Junhong?”

Can he really carry himself as an eligible candidate at the ball? For the King?

“Junhong?”

Junhong blinks and gasps, his hand resting to the tight sash around his waist. “I’m fine.” He quickly says, consciously thinking to himself that he should breathe in, and breathe out.

She smiles a little; concerned but assuring.

She smoothes down the robe as he turns to look into the mirror.

He doesn’t recognize the person in the reflection. The person is beautifully made up, with red lips and all, beautiful clothing. He looks at the cheeks and they look like ripe peaches in the early summer. The ornaments on his white hair shimmer like stars in the day sky, dancing and twinkling almost abashedly as Hyosung fixes them. He’s not used to this. Looking like this.

He’s used to dirt on his body, and torn, worn out clothes.

This is all for the King.

Hyosung slides the door open and waits for him.

He looks away from the reflection, head lowered as he walks out of the room.

“A carriage will be ready for you.” Himchan has mentioned earlier that day.

And true enough, the carriage is waiting in front of the mansion, the horses waving their tails around and almost impatient under the darkening sky.

“The carriage will take you to the palace.”

The carriage trembles and shakes. It’s the first time Junhong’s setting foot out of the mansion. He’s incredibly nervous.

“There will be guards by the entrance. They will check on you and demand the invitation.”

The guards peeking into the window get a good look at him, he keeps his head lowered, staring at his cold hands on his lap. The coachman presents the invitation scroll.

“When you’ve arrived, the servants will open the door to the carriage, and that’s when you step out, and make your way into the hall.”

Junhong’s heart beats like a giant drum, he has to place a hand over it, praying for peace and calm. The servants pull the door open, and bows, waiting for Junhong to step out. Junhong steps out with his good ankle, carefully and wills himself not to lose his balance because he’s trembling underneath the thick robe.

The palace ground is massive and spacious, there are other guests making their way to the pavilion where the event is being held. A maid comes to lead the way, politely bowing to him and he bows in return before following her.

He walks under the darkening sky, his breaths cold, unable to look around him as he walks across the bridge to the pavilion where there are lights lighting up the sky.

“There will be many people.”

He can hear music.

“The King’s arrival will be announced, and meanwhile, get yourself accustomed to the place and people.”

The hall is grand, there are lights from the beautiful lanterns everywhere, everyone’s dressed their best and smiling.

Junhong feels a little alienated in the gathering of the most important people of the kingdom, walking carefully among them, and hiding his hands in his sleeves.

He stumbles upon a group of young men and women, who doesn’t budge when he tries to walk through, and he lowers his head when they noticed him.

They don’t pay him any attention, only moving a step back to give him space to walk through. Junhong keeps his head lowered, even when they aren’t paying any attention to him he can almost feel the eyes boring into the back of his head.

“My father says, it’s quite early for the King to seek for a concubine, considering the Queen is still young.” A lady says, her words are clear, spoken with a confident demeanour.

One of the young men laughs. “What do you mean?”

“A King only seeks a young concubine when his Queen has grown older.” A younger female voice answers smartly.

“Makes you wonder if the Queen is inadequate.” The male replies back and they laugh.

Junhong walks away, and dares to turn to look back at the youths. When he looks at them they notice, and they look at him with an unfathomable look, heads held high.

Junhong promptly turns away, hastening his steps and going about anywhere just to get far away from the group. They must be the trained young people who are there for the same reason Junhong is. With how they look, elaborate ornaments on their heads and their beautiful robes, Junhong feels small with his little ornaments, subtle flowers on the fabric of his robe and the pure white of his hair compared to their darker hair.

The way they stand and carried themselves speak a volume of their confidence, and the way they utter their words, so assertive and clear of themselves, is such a contrast to the way Junhong carries himself and speaks. He can barely speak loudly, he’s never done so all his life, and he wonders if the King would even be interested to hear his voice.

“Hello.”

Junhong, in his thoughts almost stumbled into a person on the veranda overlooking the lake. He stops abruptly and blinks at the shoes in front of him. The hem of the person’s robe is embroidered with golden threads, and Junhong carefully raises his head.

A bearded man stands in front of him, smiling.

Junhong nods, unable to answer his greeting and just wanting to go somewhere he can gather his thoughts.

“My, I dare say I have never seen you before.” The man says with a gruffy voice and Junhong takes a step back from him. “From which household have you come from, young one?”

Junhong feels his whole body freezing, it’s intimidating to talk to the man. “The Kim’s household.” He answers, voice so soft the man has to lean closer to hear him.

“The Kim’s? _General Kim has a candidate for the King?_ ” The man almost laughs incredulously, and noticing the way Junhong doesn’t even smile at whatever he finds amusing he sets his lips firm again and strokes his beard. “What distant relative are you to the general?”

Junhong struggles to answer. “I am not related to General Kim.”

The man raises an eyebrow, and something gleams in his eyes. But then he manages a smile again, and holds his head high. “I am General Lee.”

“It is an honor to meet you General Lee.” Junhong bows, and the man nods, looking at him in a way that seems to be an attempt to decipher him.

“So you have come here to meet the King?”

Junhong nods timidly and the man smiles a mysterious one. It makes Junhong shiver under his clothes, wondering what the man is thinking.

“General Kim certainly didn’t even put much thought in putting out a candidate, didn’t he?”

Junhong blinks, it takes him a moment to process the words he has heard and when he looks at the man the man chuckles almost darkly. Junhong has met many evil men, and he wonders why this man is exerting such a dark energy that it makes Junhong shiver under his clothes.

“Surely you would know the King has a high taste, with so many fine candidates to choose from.” He continues, and Junhong grits his teeth.

He doesn’t know why this man is trying to get on his and Himchan’s nerves. But he reminds himself of Hyosung, she has warned him of the people in the palace, and trained him to be patient and to not be intimidated easily. But he does, unfortunately.

“I presume you should remember, when tonight ends, that the Lee’s household welcomes concubines themselves.” The man pauses, smiling and nods once before waving a hand in the air to announce his leave. But he stops midway and looks at Junhong with a steady gaze. “And your name, young one?”

Junhong swallows, his hands clasped in his sleeves. He doesn’t want to answer for some reason, his name is his only belonging and to give it to such a undecipherable man, makes him nervous. But in all his lessons he was never taught to be rude, so out of politeness he resigns to answer. “Ch-choi Junhong.” He murmurs, and the man laughs a little before leaving.

Junhong’s left a little more scared after the conversation, thinking of all the possibilities that the King might not even look at him, and might even dismiss him tonight. He should have worn the grand robes with magnificent patterns like the other young people do in the hall, and have elaborate ornaments on his head that shines and twinkles under the lights.

Junhong looks around, feeling small and vulnerable. And that’s when he catches a familiar face across the hall.

Himchan sees him, and smiles assuringly. Junhong manages a small smile to keep his master content, and Himchan nods at him before turning to the other palace officials and greeting them. Himchan is wearing his grand robe too, and it has been a while since Junhong has seen him dressed that way, accustomed to the simple ones that Himchan wears for comfort in the household. It makes him remember that Himchan is an important man in the kingdom and Junhong shouldn’t disappoint him.

“Announcing the arrival of the King.” Someone exclaims in a loud voice, and the sound of gongs and drums start thrumming through the hall.

Junhong feels his heart racing with the sound of the drums, and people are murmuring to themselves, gathering closer just to witness the arrival. Junhong stands there, frozen, and there are people bumping softly into his shoulders as they walk to see the King. He sees the young people eager to get through to gain an early attention from the King too.

Junhong reassures himself he will do fine, even though there is a voice that says he’s never going to even get close to the King and suddenly the thrumming stops and everything is quiet.

“Your Majesty.”

Everyone bows and Junhong follows suit, and he raises his head. At this moment, with the people all lowering themselves for the King, Junhong sees the man standing among the people and his heart stops.

Dressed in a rich, magnificent red robe, embroidered with golden dragons is the King, the imperial crown shimmering on his dark, brown hair. His face is decorated with a soft smile, full lips and most beautiful eyes Junhong has ever seen; with a gaze directed to his people with unnamed admiration that Junhong thought was impossible for a King to have for people lower than him.

Junhong can see him, see him with all the warmth in his hands, and the tenderness of his gaze.

This is the man he has been waiting to meet. This is the man he has been preparing to see.

The King, the man Junhong must win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i find it weird no one's interested in who the king is but whatever lmao I guess it's already obvious so like there's no guessing here  
> and thank you for the comments guys! I really appreciate it! Your comments go really far in helping me write and im sure it's the same for other writers too so thank you!!!  
> I hope i can update this often and finish this fic with you guys soon!


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

The people are scattered all over the hall, and Junhong is standing right where he has been all these time, heart still racing.

They were not being dishonest when they told him the King is a fine, handsome man, because all Junhong can see when he closes his eyes in an attempt to calm himself is the softness of the King’s smile and the beautiful gaze he holds for the people around him.

When he places a hand on his chest, Junhong feels scared. His heart is thumping so strongly for the King— the handsome King and to think that he must win such a man’s heart makes him want to cower away instead. Surely such a man can only choose a very fine and delicate person to be his concubine and Junhong is not it.

The King has been walking around and greeting his people. Junhong cannot see him among the crowd anymore. Everyone’s eager to get his attention, to converse with him and Junhong can’t seem to follow them.

“Oh, I can never approach the King as brazenly as the other does.” Someone says beside him and Junhong’s startled to see a girl beside him. She’s dressed prettily as all the other youths do, her red lips downturned so sadly Junhong feels for her.

He looks at where she’s looking and the King has moved to another family, the head of the family bowing and eager to please the young King. Junhong has to close his mouth once he realizes it was open, staring at the way the King speaks to the people, his lips moving so gently Junhong has to swallow a lump in his throat.

“You’re here for the choosing of the concubine, aren’t you?” The girl asks, turning to Junhong.

Junhong nods shyly.

She manages a bitter smile. “Me too.” She glances at the King and sighs. “My parents have me prepared for this single night, but I cannot seem to see myself doing this.”

Junhong raises his eyebrows, he never thought that he would meet a person who’s as scared as he is.

She blinks and looks at Junhong with a rather sorrowful gaze. “I never wanted this.” She suddenly says. “Did you come here at your own accord?”

Junhong thinks. He never would be there if Himchan didn’t ask him to. And he wants to do what Himchan asks of him. “Yes.”

She nods. “I hope you will get the King’s attention.” She looks at the group of youths Junhong has met before. “You seem nice, I’d rather the King chooses someone like you rather than them.”

“What is the matter with them?”

She laughs a little. “They’re the sons and daughters of the famous merchants and the high generals. I see them in events like this, and they aren’t the kindest people you will ever meet.”

Junhong lowers his head. The competition is high in the hall, and he’s just standing there hopelessly while people are going to the King. They’re a step ahead and all Junhong feels like is that he’s taking a step back instead.

“Oh, look, the King is already conversing with one of them.”

Junhong lifts his head and his heart drops. At the sight of the King’s smile directed towards a young lady who bows so gracefully for him. With sharp facial features and skin like the fair moon, Junhong can already see him choosing her over him.

He also sees the other candidates whispering with each other. And there is spite in their gazes; it’s a wonder how hateful they seem to be when the young maiden is merely speaking with the King normally.

“Don’t you want to speak to the King?” The girl takes a hold of Junhong’s arm. “You should go and speak to him once he’s done conversing with her. If he gets to know you earlier he will pay more attention to your performance later. That’s what my mother says.”

Junhong stutters, feeling her urging him and his feet are so heavy he cannot move. Just seeing the King from a distance makes his heart twist and pound he doesn’t think his ribcage can hold it in much longer.

“What about you?” Junhong asks instead, and she shakes her head.

“I have someone I want to marry, and I can’t do that if I’m the concubine.”

Junhong stops, his heart dropping. The way she speaks about it, her eyes shimmer at the thought of the person she must think of all the time. And yet she’s here at other’s command, when her heart’s so obviously is taken by somebody else.

She smiles shyly as if only realizing she shouldn’t have said it out loud.

“The Queen is not here.” She suddenly says instead. She looks around. “I didn’t notice that.”

Junhong is reminded of the conversation he overheard about the Queen earlier. Come to think of it he never heard much about the Queen.

“That is strange, my parents say I must be aware of the Queen. But the Queen isn’t even here.” She sighs and pouts a little. “The other candidates will have an easier time without the Queen.” She looks at the King again and the King is still conversing with the same young lady. She sighs. “Oh, she’s gotten hold of the King so easily.”

Junhong checks on the King and true enough, the King is still smiling, talking to the young lady. The lady is speaking softly to him with politeness that is full of grace no wonder she has his attention already. They’re already talking longer than the King has to anyone in the hall and Junhong feels like giving up.

And before he even has the chance to convince himself to approach the King, the time for greetings are already over. He realizes he has lost his chance. Dread builds up in him and he wishes Himchan doesn’t know this, or else he cannot even imagine the disappointment Himchan must feel.

He looks beside him and the girl has left. He looks for her among the crowd but he couldn’t make out where she has gone to. He feels a little alone now amidst the people.

The King is escorted to his seat, as music plays and performers come scurrying, with their colourful outfits and fancy sword fights.

People watch in awe, but Junhong merely peeks through the many people ahead of him. At the King who watches the performance attentively, sitting on his grand chair and maids serving him appetizers.

“After the royal performance, it’s the candidates’ turn.” Himchan has informed him earlier that day, and Junhong swallows a lump in his throat, the time has come for him to dance for the King, and he feels unready.

He clutches at his chest as he moves among the people, some are cheering at a particular smart trick, but with the way Junhong’s stomach is doing tricks too, he’s unable to care less about the performance.

“Ow.”

He bumps into a woman and when he looks up the woman’s rubbing her shoulder. He apologizes immediately.

“Look where you’re walking, young boy.” She hissed, a scroll in her hand. She seems to be in a hurry. She wears the royal uniform, Junhong recognizes and must work in the palace. She blinks and takes a good look at Junhong. She takes a look at her scroll. “Are you one of the candidates?”

Junhong’s a little frozen at the question, somehow there’s a voice that says he should say no and run away. If he flees at this moment Himchan would never know where he’s gone. He can hide well, he’s spent a night in the trench before. But at the same time he remembers the one time he has decided to escape he broke his ankle and it has been the worst thing to have ever happened to him.

“Yes.”

“And which household?”

“The Kim’s.”

She nods, grabbing his arm immediately and dragging him through the sea of people who are still transfixed on the ongoing performance. The gongs’ beats are picking up their pace, it will end soon.

Junhong feels cold all over, realizing she’s gathering all the candidates in one place and they’re approaching the group of young men and women he has met before. They all stand tall, anticipating the time they get to showcase their abilities. While Junhong dreads just about everything to come.

“This is the Kim’s.” The Royal maid says to another who is taking care of the candidates. “Now the only one left’s Lee’s. I will go find the candidate.”

Junhong watches her go, frowning. Lee’s household. It is the general he has met earlier and the man has proven himself to be quite intimidating and rude. The fact that he’s invited Junhong to be his concubine instead leaves a sickening feeling in Junhong’s stomach.

“The Kim’s?” A young male voice speaks behind him and he turns.

A very handsome male, probably Junhong’s age too is looking at him head to toe. He has a sharp nose, and exquisite slanted eyes. His eyes seemed to have been lined with kohl and it makes him seem ominous rather than intriguing.

“I heard the Kims don’t have any young heirs, where did _you_ come from?” He asks, narrowing his eyes a little.

Junhong leans back a little. The other’s robe is filled with patterns that seems to resemble water, and Junhong’s a little dizzy when he looks at it.

“I am General Kim’s servant.” He answers, as he was taught to.

When the others laugh in unison Junhong feels the color rising to his cheeks. He didn’t expect such reaction, much less from most of the candidates.

“A _slave_?” The young man smirks, taking a fan out of his sleeve and snapping it open. He fans himself a little, and Junhong thinks it’s a little too cold for that. “What’s a _slave_ doing here?”

Junhong cowers back in embarrassment, feeling the heat getting into his eyes.

A loud cheer comes from the performance, stealing everyone’s attention again and it has ended with a huge applause. Junhong looks at the performers now scurrying to leave the hall, and as the people passes by his sight one by one he gazes at the King gently clapping for the people.

 And as if a call, the King’s eyes catch on his.

The sound of everything is silent in that moment, and Junhong thinks the King’s eyes widen just a little, and his wonderful lips parted a little too, as if he is to speak to Junhong from the distance.

Junhong’s heart stops for the second time, and his vision is blocked by water.

Water patterns.

“Are you not answering me?” It’s the male candidate again.

Junhong feels a little anguished that he dares block Junhong’s line of sight for the King. Even more when the King has been looking at Junhong right in the eyes for the first time.

“Did you think the King would choose a slave like you?”

Junhong glares at him in the heat of the moment, completely forgetting all the manners Hyosung has taught him and it only seems to amuse the other candidate.

“Enough chitchat.” The Royal maid has returned, frowning. “This is the Lee’s and now we’re good.”

Junhong looks at the candidate from the Lee’s household and his eyes widen in surprise. It’s the young lady the King has spoken to the longest earlier, and the other candidates seem to be as surprised as Junhong too. They are silenced immediately, even the young man with the water patterned robe.

It’s amazing how quick they were to quieten down at the presence of a threatening candidate.

The Lee’s representative stands beside Junhong, and she smells like flowers. She sees Junhong looking at her beauty almost in awe and merely spares him a glance.

She clears her throat, and realizing that it must have been rude for him to stare Junhong’s eyes immediately drop down to the floor, embarrassed. Junhong can only think of how the King must have noticed her floral scent. And how pleasing it could be to the King.

Junhong looks around and behind him instead, and couldn’t find the reluctant girl he has met and talked to earlier. He never knows from which household she has come from, but has a vision of her fleeing the ball. Maybe it’s good for her that she has taken the action to do what she wants to do. And he thinks of how it would be if he’s to do the same.

An announcement comes for the performances to begin, and Junhong’s heart speeds up. He’s not the first, thank the heavens, but as he watches the performances his heart drops and drops and sinks into the floor.

The candidates are talented, and skilled people. Trained professionally maybe. Their skills varied to everything. They play musical instruments, one paints the King’s portrait only in a short amount of time and even the boy with the water robe has a nice voice when he sings.

The King looks amazed at every performance. It’s hard for Junhong to decipher his actual reaction, and it saddens him a little. To think that he would get the same reaction and it’s only out of the King’s kindness for his people probably. Nothing more.

When it comes to his turn he’s already losing all spirit of winning the King’s heart. From the start he has lost the chance to speak to the King, let alone have the King’s attention. He’s just a slave, and how can he be desired by the King when the King doesn’t even notice him?

As the hall is silence after the long applause from previous candidate, Junhong is reminded again of how much he is holding up on his shoulders. The Kim’s household, Himchan’s dignity and all the hope Hyosung and Jongup has for him.

He walks to the center with lowered head, clutching his hands together. He doesn’t dare to look at the King, nor is he brave enough to even dance. He doesn’t think he can. He’s probably walking funny with his broken ankle anyway, and the King must be uninterested in him just from the way he walks.

He stands facing the King, and swallows a lump in his throat. He prays he will survive this just fine. And somehow he’s dreading everything and only wants the night to be over. He just wants to go back and face Himchan and accept whatever Himchan decides to do to him for failing to capture the King’s heart.

“Look at the King before you bow. Hold his stare and keep it.” He hears Himchan’s voice in his head.

He lifts his head and timidly looks up from his eyelashes slowly, and the King is already staring at him. He feels his cheeks getting redder, like rotting peaches maybe, and the King blinks. Junhong lowers his gaze again—maybe too abruptly— and he’s bowing, taking the moment with his head low to shut his eyes tightly and pray for his life.

He takes the handkerchief he has kept safe in his sleeve.

The music starts and Junhong tunes everything out. Tries to block the King from his mind. But he’s unable to when the King is right there in front of him as he raises his hand to start his dance.

The tune of the music brings movement to his feet, and he gives his best for everything he has learned the past winter. He’s avoiding the King’s eyes in his dance, and he despises himself because he’s going against that one thing Hyosung has told him to do. And that is to look at the King at every chance he gets while dancing. It emits a _seductive element_ to his dance she has said, but Junhong’s unable to do it. How is he supposed to dance when he regrets each and every movement he makes? When it all feels like he’s doing it wrong at sucha  crucial moment?

He’s so hopeless at this. His heart’s pounding is deafening he can barely hear the music; he fears he will make a mistake despite his muscle memorizing every movements.

 _I will do fine_ , he tries to convince himself. He’s nearing the finale anyway. _General Kim believes in me and I cannot fail him._

He swivels around and lets his sleeves and handkerchief flow behind him. This is the part where he’s supposed to look up at the sky longingly, but in his foolishness he’s looking at the King instead, and their eyes locked on each other.

Junhong’s heart jumps.

And that’s when his broken ankle fails him and he falls down.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

 

There are gasps, and then silence. The music has stopped. His fall has been louder than expected, and he sits on the floor hard as a rock. Staring at the floor in bewilderment.

His palms lay flat on the marble floor, but he’s shaking with every pounding of his heart.

There is laughter to fill the silence.

Tears gather in his eyes. Hot scalding tears . His lips quiver and he’s unable to move.

He feels like screaming. Furious at himself, he wants to beat himself up right there and then for failing the most important thing.

He’s never been this mad. He’s even madder than when his ankle is broken because when he finds out he can dance despite the broken ankle and then to know that he fails because of himself instead he realizes that the problem is his own self.

He’s never hated anyone as much as he hates himself.

“Leave now.” He hears someone says.

Yes, he’s frozen too long there, there are more competent candidates to perform and he shouldn’t be there.

It has gone silent again, and he takes it as a cue to leave, blinking back the tears in his eyes with a promise to never cry it out because he doesn’t deserve to. But when he lifts his head he sees a hand offered to him.

A soft, warm hand; open towards him.

“Are you fine?” The King asks, smiling concernedly.

Junhong couldn’t speak, nor could he take the hand offered to him.

It’s extremely rude of him to just stare with a gaping mouth, but it’s all he’s able to do. The King seems to notice the awkwardness, with all of his people watching and Junhong with his flushed face and teary eyes and all. So he takes Junhong’s hand instead, and his fingers are firm around Junhong’s trembling, ice cold hand.

He stands straight and Junhong’s obliged to follow, gaze lowered to their hands clasped together. The King has very soft hand, and very familiar palm; as if Junhong has touched it in his previous lives, over and over again to have felt this ease and warmth in his heart as he stands properly, heart calming down.

The King lets go, and Junhong’s immediately ushered away by the servants. He does his best to elongate the touch, fingers brushing yearningly against the King’s palm as he’s pulled away, and he’s transfixed on his hand that touched the King’s.

The performances resume, and the Lee’s representative takes the stage. Music starts and Junhong realizes she’s dancing too, except she’s better, and she’s perfect at it. She gives the King looks and a gentle raise of eyebrow that Junhong should have done, and he can see the King’s unable to take his eyes off her.

When she turns as the music takes a higher note, the King’s eyes move to Junhong and Junhong’s startled.

He remembers the advices he received from Hyosung and bats his eyelashes gently, although with what just happened it feels like his eyes are just hurt, and he tries to turn away a little, to look over his shoulder _because it’s seductive_ , Hyosung has shrugged in her explanation.

The King’s expression doesn’t change as he turns to the main performance and Junhong thinks that’s the best he can do.

The King only smiles when the Lee’s representative finishes her performance with a moving gesture, and Junhong knows he’s done for the night. The Lee’s has given a competition for his performance, and it’s completely different and so much better. Junhong’s performance pales in comparison especially with his unexpected fall.

Himchan must have watched it. And Junhong would understand if he’s as furious as Junhong is.

He looks down at his white palm, and can almost feel the King’s hand holding his. Maybe that is the only memory that would suffice of such a kind and handsome King. Junhong doesn’t think he can forget how it feels like to have the King so close to him earlier; the earnest, concerned eyes trained on a mere slave like him and to think—to _know_ it’s all completely genuine.

He presses his palm against his beating chest and the performances are over.

He follows as the candidates gathered in one place in the hall, as music starts again and people are conversing with each other. Junhong doesn’t see the King, he stands silently among the candidates and even hears someone muttering to him not so discreetly.

“Nice dance performance, _pathetic slave_.”

He keeps his gaze on the floor. The night feels so long, he wishes he can be in his room, reading the books Hyosung has given him, back to the time when he thought he still have hope.

“I thank all of you for attending the ball.”

Junhong’s ears perked up at the rich, deep voice, and he notices the King has decided to go to all the candidates. He bows with the others, and keeps his head lowered again. It is extremely thoughtful of the King to thank all of them, Junhong’s reminded of the time when Jongup and Himchan would refer the King as a very kind person.

“I enjoyed all your performances.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” They answer.

The King nods and excuses himself to see his generals.

“He was totally staring at you!” Junhong hears a girl whine and sees the girl hitting the Lee’s candidate’s arm gently. But he also notices the glint in the girl’s eyes.

No one likes the winner.

The Lee’s candidate chuckles into her sleeve, and she already looks like the trophy; Junhong’s envious.

“Junhong,”

Junhong stiffens at the mention of his name and when he turns around it’s Jongup who greets him with his kind smile. Junhong’s unable to smile for him, and settled to lower his head.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” The words hurt, tumbling out of his mouth messily. “I couldn’t—”

“Junhong,” Jongup cuts him off firmly, looking formal in his light armoured uniform as the Royal Shield. He places a hand on Junhong’s shoulder. “You did fine. There’s no need to beat yourself up over it.”

Junhong shakes his head, realizing the others were looking at them. The slave and the Royal Shield conversing. He turns away from them and speaks in a low voice.

“Himchan must have seen it. I have disappointed the two of you.”

Jongup chuckles a little, which earned him a confused, guilty look from the younger.

“I—I will take any punishment…” The boy’s voice trails off when he sees the King talking to who seems to be his advisor.

The King is smiling and the advisor nods at what he has to say. Has he chosen his concubine already?

“There will be no punishment Junhong. The decision rests with His Majesty now.” Jongup mutters. “But I want you to know, you’ve caught his attention. And that _matters_. Stay calm now, and don’t try to punish yourself, it’s unnecessary.”

Junhong blinks. He opens his mouth to say something but Jongup raises a hand and he silences himself. It gnaws on him how inadequately he had performed for the household tonight, but at the same time to Jongup he must be an extremely whiny slave.

“I just wanted to tell you what a fine job you have done. I have to go now,” Jongup smiles again. “Don’t worry about Himchan, we trust you.”

He winks and left immediately. Junhong doesn’t know what to expect anymore. Should he be comforted? Some part of him, the part with the nervous pounding heart, tells him no, he shouldn’t be. Especially with a matter pertaining to the King.

Junhong turns around again and this time he caught the eyes of the other candidates. They seem to look at him with the memory of his falling and Junhong averts their gazes. They must know that Junhong is merely an impostor among the noble people in the hall.

Perhaps it would have been better if he just stayed in that dark room, waiting for his death in the cold winter, he finds himself thinking.

A Royal servant approaches them, so Junhong bows a little. He notices the others didn’t and turns red.

“I am here to announce that the King will choose one of you shortly, please be ready.”

Junhong shoulders drop in defeat. The others are fixing their robes and the ornaments on their head. Junhong doesn’t care anymore, the ornaments on his head are weighing him down, his head hurts.

“Announcing the choosing ceremony of the King’s royal concubine.”

The hall’s silent immediately and the people are parted in the middle as the King whispers to his personal attendant standing by his side. The servant nods, and smiles at the King, looking like he’s congratulating the King.

“When the King chooses his concubine, he will first acknowledge each candidate for their effort and time spent for the King, but he will not take their hand.” Hyosung had read out of her book once. Junhong had been sleepy during the winter, but he listens intently as he imagined it. “You will be required to bow to the King in a graceful manner, and should he not extend a hand to you, that is it. You are excused.”

The King is approaching them one by one, and Junhong watches nervously. He nods to one, and doesn’t extend a hand. The candidate is excused.

Junhong’s heart is going crazy, he doesn’t know if he can bow properly. The hall is cold and the bones in his ankle are hurting suddenly.

Another is excused. And another. When the King nods at the boy with the water patterned robe, Junhong wishes he doesn’t extend his hand.

And the King doesn’t.

The boy looks betrayed, face red and leaving almost too hurriedly and angrily.

Junhong feels a little sorry for him, but he is glad someone like him isn’t going to be the King’s consort.

Too absorbed in his own thoughts it took him a while to realize the King is now standing in front of him. When it sinks in him that the King is now in front of him he feels his whole body shuddering, and lifting his head reluctantly his eyes meets those of the King’s. And the King has kind eyes, and is smiling softly.

Junhong bows.

The night is coming to an end.

The King doesn’t

Doesn’t nod.

He looks to the other side, to the other candidates instead.

Then, he nods at them.

Junhong’s heart is beating like a drum, it’s on the verge of shattering at the apprehension for all things, and his eyes are watering with dreading anticipations, so many voices with conflicting opinions whispering in his head.

The other candidates bow.

And they leave.

The King extends a hand to Junhong.

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Junhong blinks and his eyes dry in a second out of disbelief.

The King nods at him, his smile warm and friendly.

Junhong’s unable to comprehend this. He’s fallen during his performance, there are better noble people out there in the same hall who had worked harder than he did for this. And yet the hand is offered to him, the King has chosen him.

He feels himself shaking, the thought of all the looks Himchan and Jongup shared, their words reassuring him that he was the person the King was looking for. _What does it all mean?_

It’s rude to keep the King waiting, Junhong reminds himself, and he extends a shaking hand himself. His skin is cold and clammy, he doesn’t want the King to touch it, but he rests it on the King’s palm anyway, and the King holds it firmly.

He bows in gratitude. He’s learned all this, and he does it perfectly finally. It’s the only thing he’s done properly that he’s learned throughout the long night.

“I am at your service, Your Majesty.” Junhong murmurs, his voice quivering and he hates himself. He must be dreaming. He’s dreamed of the King so many times than he could dare to admit, and each time it only confirmed how warm and how true the King’s hand felt around his.

“The King has made his choice.”

The people clap, the beating of a gong sounds over the hall, Junhong is floating.

He’s staring at their hands clasped together, the contrast of the King’s light brown skin with his pale one is beautiful. He’s never seen his hand so safe in another’s. He cannot take his eyes off the sight of it. Not sure if he could.

“But he is a slave!”

Junhong blinks, and both him and the King look towards the people, as if searching for the person who has exclaimed the statement, but it is impossible.

And Junhong sees the expression of the people turns into surprise, confusion and disgust.

All of it directed to him.

Junhong looks at the King, eyes searching. On the contrary the King is not looking at him. He searches for something to say, but it’s true. He is a slave. It is not a lie at all.

He looks down at their hands, and the King’s hand is slipping through his fingers. He gasps, he just had the King and now he’s losing him. Junhong wants to pull the hand back into his, but he’s incapable of it, his fingers are frozen and if he moves them they might break.

“I appreciate the information.” The King says. “I did not know he was a slave.”

Junhong swallows a lump in his throat, his eyes pooling with tears. No, no don’t take the King away, don’t take all the things Himchan has wanted for him.

The King turns away from Junhong, looking at his people awaiting his further response.

Junhong dreads the cancellation, he’s going to be excused, or thrown out of the hall. _What’s a slave doing at the ball?_

“I have made my choice.” The King announces. “And I stand by my choice.”

There are people murmuring, the older generals shaking their heads. Junhong can’t stand to look at them looking at him with distaste, and trains his teary eyes on the floor. He’s never been so ashamed. So close to his goal and yet it is just another stage for him to realize how shameful he is.

“Is he even a virgin, Your Majesty?”

Junhong’s lips tremble, and he bites at his lips until he feels blood in his mouth. The tears are threatening to fall, he cannot see clearly.

Even when the King turns to him, and he looks at the King with his sight blurred by hot tears, unable to say anything to explain. Because there is no explanation, so what is there to say?

“Was a virgin ever a requirement in choosing?” The King says. “Was there even a requirement?”

The people are restless.

“As far as I know, the requirements reside to the King’s taste, and I have made my choice.”

Junhong isn’t sure why the King is so adamant in defending him, but it makes him melt inside and calms him down despite the throbbing nervousness earlier. He doesn’t know why the King makes him feel so protected despite only knowing him that night.

“Who are we,” Someone asks from the crowd. “To question the King’s choice?”

Junhong lifts his head and sees Himchan walking out of the crowd.

“He has chosen a slave over all the other candidates.” Himchan smiles at the people, and he seems more confident than anyone in the hall, including the King, Junhong realizes. “And that means, the slave must be _much better_ than all of you. Isn’t that correct?”

The people frown at the general. But Himchan isn’t deterred at all.

“Questioning the King might amount to treason, we all may be punished.”

“There will be no punishments tonight.” The King interrupts.

Grand General Kim Himchan turns towards the King and Junhong. He looks at the King and smiles knowingly.

“Only because the King is too kind.” He answers.

“The ball will commence to an end.” The King announces himself, and despite his well masked expression, somehow Junhong notices he’s irritated.

The servants and maids started scurrying around again. Music starts.

People bow to the King, including Junhong, and everyone resigns to the King’s choice, thanks to Himchan’s statement earlier.

A maid approaches Junhong and the King. The King nods at her as she bows and leads them to the door in which the King has entered the hall from earlier that night. Junhong walks behind the King gently with his broken ankle, and the servants push the door open.

They’re led to a waiting room. The King takes a seat on one of the cushions, and motions for Junhong to sit in front of him.

“I wish to know your guardian. Which household are you from?” The King asks, smiling softly.

Junhong doesn’t think he can get used to such handsome eyes trained on him all the time.

“The Kim’s household, Your Majesty.”

“The Kim’s?” The King seems utterly surprised, or rather, amused.

At that time, Kim Himchan walks through the door, followed by Jongup. He’s smiling widely as he bows, the doors closing behind him.

“I see you have chosen _my_ candidate. What a surprise, Your Majesty.”

The King grins at the general, Junhong takes note of the lines on the King’s face when he grins widely. It’s endearing. Junhong can only imagine all the amount of smiles he has given to have such prominent lines on his handsome face. Etched there on his cheeks and near his eyes. A memory of all that is blissful for the King.

“If we may interrupt,”

Junhong blinks and realizes a maid is speaking to him. He realizes the maid talked formally to him, and his heart skips a beat.

“We will take you to the chamber now.”

He stands, and follows the maid through the dimly lit hallway. Other maids walk behind him with their heads lowered.

“We have presented a candidate we knew you would choose.” Junhong hears Himchan says as he leaves.

The King laughs. It’s a good, warm laugh.

“Is that not cheating?”

“It’s no secret to us, I don’t consider it is at all, Your Majesty. After all, you made the choice on your own…”

Their voices fade the deeper Junhong walks through the hallway. The decorations along the wall is different here, he must really be in the palace now, where not many people have been to.

The maid takes him to a large chamber, and he steps into it, to find a hearth with fire, a table with cushions and pillows to sit on and lie on prepared at the side. There are wines and sweets served on the table.

And a large bed by the other wall, decorated with silk and royal sheets.

Junhong’s heart drops.

“Please wait for the King to attend to you.” The maid bows, and Junhong bows in return, not forgetting his manners. “We will be just outside should you require our service.”

When the door closes, he loses his balance and crumbles to sit on the bed.

He gasps.

He’s so focused on the trainings and the ball, he has blocked the important thing that his concubinage will lead to. All this time, he has not thought of it because it comes after the King has made his decision, and the decision was the most important thing after all.

And now he’s here. The chosen one.

“The King will bed you, as an official ceremony of you being chosen as his concubine.” Hyosung had said. “Do you want to proceed with the lesson on sleeping with the King?”

Junhong had refused to proceed. He preferred to learn how to serve and drink tea properly instead. Hyosung hadn’t said anything. Junhong thinks they never touched on the lesson because she knows he’s no longer a virgin after all.

“Oh no,” He whispers, shaking his head. What now, what now?

He feels his heart constricting and he clutches at his chest. He sucks in breaths but it is not enough, he’s suffocating. He tries to loosen the tie of the sash around his robe, but realizes it was tied only for another to untie, and he cannot loosen it. The air is thin in his lungs. He doesn’t think he can go through with this. He’s terrified he can barely breathe.

Now that he’s chosen, even more terrifying things are waiting for him and he feels weak and helpless.

He stands up, and runs to the nearest window. When he tries to push it open he realizes it’s locked. He searches for the lock frantically, and when he finds it, he unlocks it with struggle, because his hands are shaking and cold. He pushes it open and a cold breeze blows at him and into the room, he shields his eyes from the piercing winter wind.

The end of winter’s wind blow violently outside. He cannot see far from the last of the snow falling down. He looks down and can see the snow covered roofs.

He can climb out of the window, but he isn’t sure his broken ankle is going to help him if he slides down the steep roof of the palace. He might fall to his death.

He stares into the foggy night, anxious and contemplating.

No, no, he realizes he cannot do this. Not to Himchan. Himchan has brought him here for one thing. Himchan has done so much for him and he cannot flee in return for Himchan’s deeds. It isn’t like Himchan forced him into this, he had asked for Junhong’s permission— which was unnecessary and Junhong agreed. Himchan didn’t even send him to cruel and violent King, but instead he was sent to a kind and handsome King.

Those are all the things that Junhong tells himself to convince himself to stay, and that everything will be fine. He closes the window, although the wind proves to be too strong for him to close it properly but that will do. He walks to the bed, reminding himself again and again that he doesn’t need to flee.

He sits, with a hand on his chest as he mutters to himself all the good things that have happened to him. The good things he never deserved.

The doors open and his head jerks to its direction. The King enters and the servants who opened the doors bowed to him, closing the doors immediately.

The King looks over at Junhong sitting on the bed, and smiles politely. Junhong bows.

“Hello.” The King says, walking towards him.

Junhong nods, unable to answer. If he does his voice would crack from nervousness and that‘s embarrassing.

The King sits on the bed, beside Junhong and Junhong feels the mattress sinks at the King’s weight.

“I have not your name.” The King speaks, and he places a hand between them, his palm opened and welcoming.

Junhong takes it as an order to place his hand on top, and he does. The King wraps his fingers around Junhong’s hand, smiling wider.

“Choi Junhong.”

The King nods, and repeats, “Choi Junhong.”

The sound of Junhong’s name coming from the King’s mouth, with the King’s beautiful voice sounds like _everything_ Junhong has ever wanted to hear. And he blushes. He cannot fathom why but his name belongs to those lips, somehow he’s convinced of it when the King has uttered his name.

“That’s a really nice name.” The King chuckles a little.

Junhong cannot get impossibly redder, he’s never this flattered in his nervousness. And to think the King is doing so, just because he wants to, makes Junhong’s heart flip and jump in his chest.

“I am Jung Daehyun.” The King says, staring at Junhong. Junhong looks up into his earnest eyes. “It is written with the characters that bring the meanings of to be the great and wise.”

“To be the great person.” Junhong mutters and he’s shy immediately when the King chuckles, nodding at him.

“Yes, yes, and yours?”

Junhong blinks. “I do not know, Your Majesty. I have never written my name in their original characters.”

“Oh.” Daehyun’s smile falters a little, but it’s only from understanding.

And now Junhong wishes he has known.

“Don’t be afraid, I am only a human like you.” Daehyun suddenly says and Junhong’s eyes widen in surprise. He laughs, he must have noticed how stiff and nervous Junhong is being in his presence.

“I am sorry, Your Majesty.”

“No, do not apologize. It has been a long night, yes?” Daehyun squeezes his hand slightly, warming it up already. “Your ornaments look heavy, it must be weighing you down.”

Before Junhong can say he’s fine, Daehyun reaches out and holds his head in his hands. He unties the tie that keeps the ornaments on Junhong’s head swiftly, and carefully takes it off the younger’s head. He places it on the bed, beside Junhong.

“There, better.” He smiles.

Junhong nods nervously. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He feels barren now despite feeling lighter. Compared to the King in his golden, lavish robe and the glinting crown on his head.

“It hurts my head too.” The King proceeds to say, reaching up his head and taking the imperial crown off his head. Carefully he places it on the table beside the bed, Junhong just noticed that there’s a designated place for the crown.

Junhong then stares at his rich, brown hair.

“You have very beautiful hair, Junhong.” Daehyun compliments, and Junhong’s heart flips again at the mention of his name.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Junhong lowers his gaze. The King is really kind, Junhong doesn’t think he’s ever been this infatuated by a person he just met, but it is possible after all, he realizes. And he also realizes that they’re drawing near to the conclusion for the night.

“May I?” Daehyun lifts a hand, and Junhong nods hesitantly.

He shuts his eyes nervously, he doesn’t think he can keep them open or else he’s going to be even more scared. Maybe if he closes his eyes and not see what is happening, everything will be much less scarier.

A warm palm presses against his cheek, soft and comforting.

“You have skin like the winter’s snow.”

Junhong shuts his eyes tighter, pressing his lips into a tight line.

“Junhong, are you fine?” Daehyun whispers, leaning closer.

Junhong opens his eyes and they’re immediately filled with tears. He sees Daehyun’s concerned eyes trained on him so closely, feels his heart speeding up and his fingertips turning cold, his toes numbing and freezing.

“I am at your service, Your Majesty.” He murmurs. It’s what he’s taught to do. At this time, when Junhong is failing himself to be poised he can only depend on what he learned.

Daehyun blinks, moving closer.

Junhong sees his beautiful eyes fluttering close, and when Junhong shuts his, the tears escape and roll down his cheeks.

Daehyun presses his lips against Junhong’s, and Junhong holds back a whimper.

He loses himself at the contact of another’s skin on his.

He cannot breathe. His lungs are constricting, heart tightening at the thoughts and the memories that come back to him like a single swift piercing wind of the winter’s night. The bad memories. The pain, and the hurt that he has ever experienced all come back and make their way into Junhong’s mind.

The laughter of the cruel men, the breaking of the bones in his ankle and his dry throat from screaming. No help. No help and no rescue have ever come to him because there weren’t any.

“Junhong?”

Firm hands close in around his shoulders, and Junhong’s eyes snap open, tears bursting as he gasps.

“Junhong, are you okay?”

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe. His heart is beating rapidly and coming to a stop. His whole body is shaking so terribly, it feels like death is coming for him.

“Junhong, Junhong, answer me. Are you okay?”

Junhong realizes it’s the King speaking to him. He shakes his head and the King’s eyebrows furrow, but Junhong can’t seem to speak and explain.

_No, no, I am okay, Your Majesty, do as you please, I am at your service._

But there are flashes of the cruel masters he has known, hands that took and ripped. The violence that tore and shattered him down all those times.

Junhong whimpers, hands shaking. He thinks the life is seeping out of him as he gasps for air uselessly. He just cannot seem to breathe anymore. It’s painful.

“Close your eyes.”

Junhong cries out painfully, the memory of all that hurt is assaulting him, it feels like he’s writhing on the cold floor of his master’s manor again.

His hands constricted and his wrists hurting.

Blood.

“Junhong, close your eyes.”

There are warm hands holding onto his. He’s still shaking.

“Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me _please_.”

He’s crying profusely already and he doesn’t realize he’s been chanting those words breathlessly, the words that he has always repeated but has never been answered.

“I’m _not_ going to hurt you.”

Junhong shuts his eyes tightly, and feels another’s forehead against his.

He whimpers in pain again, hissing at the sting that echoes in his body.

“Choi Junhong, you’re safe.”

And then, abruptly and so suddenly, Junhong’s mind turns instantly blank.

It’s supposed to be black with his eyes shut. But he just sees the light he sees in his dreams.

He hears himself breathing. He opens his eyes to see another pair staring into his.

Death hasn’t come.

The tears have stopped abruptly.

Or maybe not. Truthfully Junhong feels out of his body, and he’s just slowly coming back to himself with every breaths that he can finally take, and the hands that hold him.

Junhong stares at Daehyun, feels the King’s warm hands holding his hands still on his lap.

“Your Majesty…” Junhong croaks out, surprised. This time his halted heart comes into motion again, leaping and twisting as it races. “I am so sorry.” He scrambles to pull away his hands, losing his breaths again.

He cannot believe he just dared to interrupt the King when the King was about to bed him. That was extremely rude and foolish of Junhong.

He slips off the bed, moving onto his knees on the floor to bow for apology.

“I am sorry.” He whimpers. “I will accept any punishment you—”

His hands are pulled and he is raised from the floor. Daehyun with all his strength pulls at Junhong’s arms and holds him firmly with his strong hands, staring at the younger bewilderedly and worriedly.

“Why are you like this?” He questions, pupils searching for answers that he will never find in Junhong’s eyes. All Junhong could see, however, is concern in the King’s eyes. How is that possible? “You’re panicking.”

Daehyun rises from the bed, and pulls at Junhong’s hand. Junhong follows him confusedly and apologetically as he leads the younger to the table by the hearth.

He sits Junhong down, and Junhong’s rendered unable to function properly. He can still barely breathe, chest heaving and mouth dry. The King swiftly hands the concubine a glass of the wine served.

“Calm yourself down.”

Junhong blinks, his eyelashes wet. He looks at Daehyun and doesn’t dare to defy the King’s command so he takes a sip of the wine with shaky hands.

“There.” Daehyun smiles a little, albeit still looking worried. “I lost you for a moment.” He whispers, lifting a hand to wipe the tears residue on Junhong’s cheek.

Junhong closes in on his shoulders. He doesn’t know what he is doing. He shouldn’t be like this with the King.

“Have some sweets, perhaps it will calm you down.” Daehyun pushes the plate filled with sweet delicacies towards Junhong.

Junhong doesn’t take any. He doesn’t think he’s allowed for it. Instead, he clasps his hands tighter around the glass of wine.

“Your Majesty, I d—didn’t mean to—”

“It is okay.” The King waves a sleeve in the air and takes a glass. “There is no need for apologies.”

Junhong lowers his head, cursing at himself in his mind. He doesn’t know what has gotten into him, the memories that haunts him just seemed to come alive in his mind for a moment that he lost himself. He shouldn’t have let it. He was supposed to just lie there and please the King. It was what he was supposed to do.

“Do you feel better now?”

Junhong looks at the King, and timidly nods. His heart is calming down and the warm hearth is giving him a sense of peacefulness. Daehyun stirs at the small fire, a small smile etched on his face.

“If you wish to bed me now, I will be pleased to do as you say, Your Majesty.” Junhong decides to say. He had just been too scared at the initial thought of having an intercourse with the King, but he knows he can do it if he just does his best to shoo the dark thoughts away.

Daehyun blinks and frowns. “No, we don’t have to,” He says. “It’s only a tradition.” He seems to laugh a little. _Embarrassed_ , Junhong realizes. “We can converse for the night. It’s still quite early.”

Junhong is taken aback. What kind of a concubine would he be if he doesn’t satisfy the King’s sexual needs on their first night? The first night is supposed to be the consummation of his concubinage. That is the tradition, he’s not sure if he’s even allowed to ignore it.

“How old are you?” Daehyun asks before Junhong can say anything, taking some sweets into his mouth.

“Sixteen.” Junhong answers in a low voice, disappointed in himself that even the King has to excuse himself from bedding him. It was his entire fault. How can he make up for this?

Daehyun hums.

Junhong drinks the wine in his glass, a huge mouthful and swallows it at once.

“Have you served Himchan for a long time?”

Junhong shakes his head. “I was taken in earlier this winter, Your Majesty.”

Daehyun thinks for a moment, before he nods. “Oh.” He drinks his wine and takes more sweets.

Junhong watches him chew with a warm heart. Perhaps it’s the wine taking over his body, spreading warmth all over. He thinks he sees Daehyun glancing at the window he has left slightly ajar and an undecipherable expression crosses the King’s face.

When Daehyun drinks again Junhong rises to take the bottle and pours him more. It’s basic manners when he’s with the King at the table, and Junhong’s grateful for the smile Daehyun gives him.

“How did Himchan treat you?”

“He’s really kind.” Junhong smiles a little, and takes a sip from his glass.

“He is a really kind man.” The King nods. He looks down at the hearth, the fire is dying and Junhong takes the initiative to stir at the coals.

The other watches silently. Junhong remembers the times when he would huddle at the fireplace in the kitchen for warmth in the past.

Daehyun doesn’t speak for the longest time. Junhong drinks to be polite and because it is expected of him. He stares at the wooden table, unable to look at the King in the silence. And perhaps to stare at the man would be impolite too.

After a long time, Junhong speaks, “Your Majesty.”

Daehyun looks at him, raising his eyebrows.

Junhong moves his hand to the sash on his robe, holding onto the knot that holds it together.

“If you can help me untie this, I will take everything off for you.” Junhong says and his words feel slurry, like there is porridge stuffed in his mouth. He knows the feeling from experience.

“What?”

“You can do as you please, Your Majesty. My body is yours.”

Daehyun leans forward, and stares at him. He laughs. “Choi Junhong, are you _drunk_?”

Junhong blinks, pulling at the knot. He shakes his head though a little doubtfully. “I am not, Your Majesty.”

Daehyun grins amusedly. “Yes you are.”

Junhong shakes his head again, embarrassed. “I am not. And if you will, please take me as you want.”

Daehyun laughs again, moving close to him and takes the hand that is trying so hard to untie the knot. “You feel sorry for what happened earlier?” He asks softly.

The younger’s eyes fill with tears, his cheeks are heated. He wants more wine. He nods guiltily.

“You don’t have to.” The King places his hand down onto his lap. “I do not mind it at all. You were scared. I understand.”

Junhong shakes his head, frowning and lips trembling. He feels useless, and rude. He’s extremely rude. And drunk.

He feels himself pushed down gently onto the pillows on the floor and his chest heaves with all the breaths he takes.

“You can punish me.” Junhong whimpers, staring at the ceiling decorated with dragons and they swirl in his sight, the ceiling seems to lower itself down and comes back up again and the dragons swim through the walls.

“I will not punish you, you did not do anything wrong.”

Junhong feels tears streaming down his face and that’s the last thing he remembers. He sleeps comfortably. There are no dreams. No King. Because he has already won the King’s heart, it seems.

 

 

 

 

“Your Highness?”

Junhong stirs awake from his sleep, his eyelids are heavy and he blinks. A maid’s face comes into his sight and he’s startled at the unfamiliar face.

He jerks upright, and the maid bows.

He bows in return and hears a maid by the door laughing. He wonders why.

“It is late in the morning already, Your Highness.” The maid says, a small smile on her lips, as if amused. “We have to get you ready for the lunch. The King has asked for you to join him.”

Junhong looks around almost frantically, and the King is absent. He feels embarrassed to have woken up this way.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “I will get ready.”

The maid nods and leads him outside.

Junhong’s disoriented in the morning, head thumping. He realizes how drunk he was the night before and how he doesn’t remember what happened. He wishes the King isn’t angered by whatever misbehaviour he had the night before. Maybe the King is asking for him to talk about it and has already decided a suitable punishment.

He deserves a beating, he thinks, as they walk through a series of hallways, passing by gardens and Junhong’s in awe of the palace. The birds are chirping high in the open sky, there are maids and servants everywhere, clearing the thick snow on stone paths and carrying trays of tea around.

He’s brought into a room with a giant tub. The water in the tub is steaming and the maid asks for him to shed his clothes.

He looks down at the knot on his robe. It’s still tied tightly. He touches it, an unfathomable feeling taking over him.

The maids help him undress.

 

 

 

 

Junhong’s the first to arrive in the dining room. He’s dressed in a new robe of the royal patterns and fabric. It’s comfortable and Junhong thought the robes given by Himchan was comfortable enough.

He takes a seat at the table, the cushion he’s sitting on comfortable too and the room overlooking the snowy garden outside. A maid is taking care of the fire in the fireplace, ensuring that the room is warm.

He doesn’t know what to do, the maids only smile politely at him when they catch him staring.

“Junhong!”

It’s Himchan and Jongup. They seem happy to see Junhong.

Junhong beams, bowing to the two immediately and Himchan and Jongup laugh.

“There’s no need to bow to me anymore, you are of a higher status now, Your Highness.” Jongup smiles, taking a seat in front of Junhong.

Junhong looks at him confusedly.

“Oh, don’t tell me you bow to the maids too?” Himchan asked.

Junhong turns red and Himchan and Jongup laugh in amusement.

“How was the King to you, Junhong?” Jongup asks, and Junhong remembers how scared he had been last night, the King taking the effort to calm him down.

Somehow he blushes at the thought. “He was very kind.”

The two shares a look with each other, and Junhong doesn’t understand what it says because the two snickers. It’s a new thing to see how playful the two is in the palace.

The King arrives and they all bow. Daehyun is dressed in a simpler robe, but it still has elaborated majestic patterns. He takes a seat at the head of the table.

“Good afternoon, Junhong. Did you sleep well?” Daehyun asks, the maids proceeding to serve the food.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Junhong answers politely. He hopes Daehyun doesn’t bring up how drunk he was last night.

“I am glad to know that.” Daehyun smiles.

“Will the Queen not be joining us?” Himchan asks instead and Daehyun looks at the general before shaking his head.

Junhong sees how Daehyun frowns as he looks down at the bowl of rice in front of him. “The maids have informed me of it. It will be just us.” When he looks up again, he’s smiling. Junhong’s a little surprised at the change in his expression. “This lunch is to thank the two dear brothers for their wonderful contributions.”

Himchan rolls his eyes. “Oh please, you don’t have to be so thankful, we just found you a perfect concubine, that’s it. Just a favour for a brother, from another.” He glances at Junhong teasingly.

He’s handsome when he’s relaxed, Junhong realizes. And it also made him realize how he had made Himchan worry for him him so many times that he had only just known how Himchan looks when he’s relaxed.

Daehyun chuckles. “You took advantage of your extensive knowledge on my preferences, I don’t know if I should feel glad or betrayed by it.”

Himchan shrugs. “Are you saying all the other generals didn’t take advantage of all the years they know you too?”

Daehyun merely smiles. He looks at Junhong and gestures to the food served. “Enjoy your food, Junhong, I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Himchan and Jongup snickers and Daehyun glares at them. Junhong’s a little nervous because he doesn’t understand a thing they say.

They eat. Junhong takes little bites, it’s basic manners to not gobble up everything, even though the food is really good.  The three converse happily at the table while Junhong keeps quiet. It’s a wonder how informal they can be in an enclosed dining room. Just three close friends joking with each other.

No titles and no statuses, Junhong realizes.

When they’re done eating, Daehyun takes the chance to thank the two again.

Himchan shakes his head. “The only one you have to thank is Jongup. He found Junhong after all.”

“I guess I am hugely indebted to the two of you now.” The King has said, and he has to leave early for a meeting. Before he leaves he whispers that he will see Junhong later that day.

Junhong feels his cheeks turning pink and watches him go.

Himchan and Jongup linger.

“What did we tell you?” Himchan says, his expression smug and Junhong blinks at him. “We told you he will choose you.”

Junhong smiles and nods, feeling a little ashamed at how he was so burdensome before, losing his confidence and all. “I’m sorry I fell during my performance.” Junhong mutters, head lowered.

“Oh, no, not at all. Jongup says that’s the sole reason Daehyun’s even more determined to choose you.”

Junhong raises his eyebrows confusedly. Now that he thinks about it, with how Himchan once said he’s sure Daehyun will choose him, and how Daehyun did choose him even though he practically failed at everything, there’s something there that Junhong doesn’t know and doesn’t notice.

Himchan sighs softly and raises a hand to Junhong’s face. He presses it against the pink cheek and stares at Junhong fondly, the younger leans into his touch. “You won the King’s heart, Junhong. You did it and I am thankful for it. Remember, the King is only human, so he has his needs too. That is why he has chosen a concubine this early. You are here for a reason, and this palace is now your home.”

Junhong presses his lips in a tight line. He admires the general so much. For his kindness and mercy. “You’re incredibly kind, Master.”

“I told you to call me Hyung.”

Junhong chuckles a little. “Thank you Hyung.” He bows down, and presses his forehead on the floor. “I am forever indebted to you.”

Himchan laughs awkwardly and pulls him up gently. “Never bow to me anymore, young one. I am no longer your master. You are for the King now. Your service is only for the King.”

Junhong’s eyes well with tears and he nods. Himchan pinches his cheek adoringly and Jongup chuckles.

“I hope last night wasn’t too much for you.” Jongup speaks up.

Junhong blinks. “It was what I have prepared for a long time.”

“No,” Himchan laughs rather too amusedly. “He meant Daehyun.”

Junhong raises his eyebrows and he turns red all over. “We did not—” He covers his mouth, embarrassed.

Himchan and Jongup gawk at him.

“Are you telling me he didn’t bed you last night?”

Junhong looks at them in fear. It is a bad thing and he has accidentally let them know. It’s only day one and he has proven himself to be an extremely incompetent concubine.

“I’m impressed.” Himchan suddenly says.

Jongup nods in agreement. “One would think he’s impatient.”

Junhong turns even redder. They don’t know that it was Junhong who has stopped Daehyun from doing so.

“Maybe he didn’t get to…” Himchan tilts his head, thinking. Jongup nudges him and he blinks. “Oh, we have to take our leave now, Junhong.”

Junhong nods, glad the conversation is coming to an end. He doesn’t think he can go on thinking that he denied the King his wants.

Himchan smiles at him and pulls him into an embrace. Junhong’s pleasantly surprised. He wraps his arms around Himchan in return even though he isn’t sure if he could at first.

“Take care, Junhong.” Himchan whispers, and he pulls away. “Just beware of the Queen.”

And he offers no explanation for Junhong for he and Jongup hurriedly left.

Junhong’s left there wondering about the Queen. He has never met the Queen. And wonders why the Queen is such a mysterious person despite being the closest to the King.

Regardless, he knows he will meet the Queen soon.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I left this fic not updated for so long cause i haven't been editing and tbh i got confused on the titles for Junhong after too much reading lmao someone educate me
> 
> also, i guess the character reveal is not that surprising and also it's obvious if you see my other fics cause i literally only write a few pairings and they're pretty rare to be written in fics jashdjkas so yeah i totally understand if i lose readers over this not so usual dynamics and pairing
> 
> and as always leave a comment, I really appreciate it that i literally can't fucking express it


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